Dream Child
by Trouble Cookie
Summary: A Shinigami kills a pregnant woman. In her last moments, the woman uses the legend of the Dream Child to save her baby. At 16, when Kira grasps the city, Jet's on the news for a crime gone wrong and Kira strives to kill her. One problem. She wont die.
1. Birth by Death

Death Note fanfic: Dream Child

Mkays this is the first fanfic, suh... Be easy on me. Not a oneshot, btways. Will have more chapters.

-Line-

_Hazel Carter was 18 and pregnant when she died at the hands of a previously dormant Shinigami and a drunken thug. Just before death takes her, she remembers the legend of the Dream Children, and uses it to give life to her child. _

_Jet finds herself alone in the world, with no real name, and sets out to survive on her own, committing small-time crimes for food and money. When Kira's hold grips the city in which she lives, the crime rates drop so low that a small crime of shoplifting gone wrong is mentioned on the news, along with the Kira case. Kira proceeds to try and wipe her face off the earth. One problem. __**She wont die.**_

_Can the rogue be the end of Kira? _

_-Line-_

The Shinigami drifted away from the scene of Hazel's death, leaving the drunken thug to stumble away, sensing daybreak is near.  
In one of the shinigami's large hands, the Death Note is grasped. It had been a long time since a name was written down in it, but once Mirren had heard the rumour that a shinigami can be killed easier when they are dormant for too long, he had sprung into action. The long years of gambling away all the goods he owned- such as apples, which his gambling friend Ryuk had often liked- had become boring and monotonous long before he had decided to write a name down in his Note. More than once had he complained of the bore each game presented after it had been played thoroughly to excess. Interesting games were few and far between, when the same things were being betted and the same games were being played.  
Mirren could tell you every rule of hundereds of card games, some dating back far before the time of Jesus Christ. Gambling isn't a recent craze, you know.

The shinigami were under the expression that pregnant women would give you more strength than women who were not impregnated or men, so when Hazel had discovered her pregnancy in the (unknown) presence of Mirren, he had begun plotting straight away. He wanted something dramatic for his first death, so he put thought into it.  
He had kept a close eye on her for a few hours, plotting away, and had finally come up with a master plan. He would make her go to her boyfriend's house to tell him, and he would be horrified. So she would break up with him and run from his house, in the dark of the night, and into the alleyways which were inhabited by drunken thugs and whores. A thug would approach her and threaten to rape her, and when she lashed out at him when he grasped her breasts, he would stab her, and leave her to die in an alleyway.

Something about this death was strange though. Not that Mirren had much experience in what humans were like in their time of death, he was not sure that what had happened with this woman was normal. She had dragged herself into a desolate alley and sobbed into her sleeve before suddenly seeming to concentrate, brow furrowing, and then she had just went unconscious. Asleep, not dead. And an expression of longing had been plastered to her pained features. It was sight, to say the least. When at last she heaved her last breath and her pretty azure eyes glazed overbeneath her lids, the shinigami moved away, the thug running, realising what he had done.  
His first death had went well. It was time to plan another.

_-Line-_

In the distance, not so far away, but out of the maze of the alleyways, a small baby girl screamed out into the breaking dawn, flailing it's stubby limbs in the cold morning air. The village was silent before the shriek had ripped out into the air, and many seeked to silence it. But that honour would not be theirs, as a small-time criminal raced up the mucky road, escaping from the scene of their last crime. When they had heard the cries, they had determined the direction and sped towards it. About 5 minutes later, the tall man had skidded to a halt in front of the bare child and stared down at it, the clogs in his brain ticking.  
His wife could not concieve a child, and wanted one dearly. Perhaps this would make her happy? He peered around. Surely no real self-respecting parent would leave their newborn child out on the streets on a cold February morning, when the frost was beginning to bite at everyone's toes? No, of course not, he assure himself, picking the pink bundle of flesh up into his arms and stealing away into the last scraps of the night. Perhaps, he prayed wistfully, this will shut that moany cow up. Maybe the baby while quieten down soon too.

20 minutes later  
"Freya, darling? Look what I found out on the street when I was gettin' away from the last crime?" A muffled huff came from the kitchen and stumpy woman stormed through the door, the frame shuddering as the wood connected with the table behind it.  
"It better not be another rabid mouse, Richard, or you're gonna be sleepingn outside!" She snapped, stepping forward to inspect the bundle in his arms warily. When she saw the little pink child she gasped and looked at her husband, have fearfully, half thankfully.  
"I thought, since we can't have our own and she was out on the street on her own, we could look after her. Maybe that would make you happy, so you'd stop whining like a hormonal teenager." A sharp slap jerked his head from the side, but when he looked at his wife again he found her staring at the little girl.  
"I never thought I'd see this. I didn't think it was true. But look at that scar!" She exclaimed, pointing to the hairline web with glowed royal blue in the dim lighting. A scar.  
"Never thought what was true? That you'd see what?"  
"Rich, this is a dream child!" The woman cried, throwing her hands in the air fitfully, before taking the restless child from his arms. "We can only look after her till she's around 7, 'cause when they are able they cannot be kept. They're dangerous if they are. Or that's how the legend goes. But until then, we'll look after her." Finality rang in her tone and it was settled. The dream child, Hazel Carter's daughter, would be looked after.

Or at least, for a while.  
-_Line_-

Hope that was okay. The first chapter's was boring, but it'll get better. I swear!  
Next Chapter soon. Reviews are welcome. :D  
Oh, and you'll start getting the Death Note stuff soon. It's just starting like this. Promise. And cookies. Mkays, buhbyes :3


	2. Caught With Broken Wings

_Okay, here's the second chapter! Sorry about taking so long... ^-^"" Nyeh. Enjoy!  
(Still not too much reference to Death Note in this one, sorry, but just in case...: **I don't own Death Note...Or any of the characters.  
**It feels weird doing that. Oh well, guess I'll get used to it, nyeh?) _

The strong winds accompanied her to her last break-in, drowning out the noise of her pained and impatient stomach. If this goes wrong, Kira could kill her. Her mind spun slightly at the thought of that but she forced the thought away. Jet, the ruthless 16 year old criminal, did not get scared. The smirk that crept to her dry lips was inevitable as she flattered herself yet again, trying to ignore the irony in these thoughts. Times were hard for her, all her criminal companions dead or on the run, some even already in prison. News on Kira dominated the televisions everywhere she looked and the knowledge that she could easily be next had promptly put her on rations.

So that night as she neared the closed corner shop, the police dotted around the mouths of every street but not venturing into the almost safe alleyways, her head was filled with the whirring cogs. Again, she pushed her thoughts away, purposefully breaking her own reverie. She was trying to be casual, strolling past the many police officers and ending up in front of the slightly stained glass window of the store, advertisements and products with offers being displayed.

Nothing could hold back the slight pang of guilt she felt as she stood inside the shop, filling a small paper bag with the minimum amount of food that would be substantial for a week or so. She knew after this break-in, she would have to move on. A long, drawn out sigh rolled from her chest and she hung her head in defeat, wishing the ground would swallow her up.

Just as she was about to turn and leave, something caught her eye. Outside the window. A light. Shivers coursed through her as her temporarily swimming vision cleared. A police officer stood outside the shop, staring in at her, looking faintly shocked before reacting. With a hiss of mingled fear and anger, Jet was already out on the damp cobbles, racing away.

She was far away but whenever she strained her ears over the heavy thumping of her heart and her deep, gasping breaths, over the smacking of her sore feet on the cobbles and her protesting stomach, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps pounding behind her. She was going to get caught, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Chancing a quick glance behind her, she changed tactics and swerved out onto the upcoming highway which she had initially been going to avoid in case of police cars. It had looked clear on her approach but as she skidded slightly on the loose gravel her body was illuminated with bright lights and she screamed, flying through the air as the front wheel connected with her side.

She flew through the air as all sound died in her ears, leaving a bare ringing, beginning to fall like an unwanted ragdoll, a butterfly being pushed around with the wind. A dove with a broken wing. She connected with the ground head first and the last thing she felt was a throbbing pain before a veil of bright white covered her eyes.

_Wooh, yeah, it's pretty short. But I've got everything alllll planned out! I'll be trying to get down the next chapter soon seeing as school's been cancelled tomorrow due to snow. So, I'll see if I can update again tomorrow/tonight.  
__See y'all!_  
_Trouble~X_


	3. Far From Home

**_Hey guys! I am soooo sorry about the long time without an update! It's one of my New Year's resolution to either get a chapter of this or a oneshot out at least every week or two weeks. I don't wanna leave you guys with nothing for so long!  
Well here's the third chapter. We're introduced to two new awesome characters in this one!  
Enjoy!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, etc etc. If I did, they'd all be dancing around in bunny suits. _**

Her auburn hair was windswept and knotted, flying out behind her messily as she was flown over the tarmac of the smooth road. Her head throbbed painfully and the icy wind that slapped at her exposed skin wasn't helping matters. Reaching up a delicate hand to knead her temples, hoping to ease the pain, but only being met with moist blood. It stained her small pale fingers to a deep red and she flinched away from it- though the warmth was welcome, that wasn't how she wanted to find it. The blood…No, her blood, was dripping down her fingers and hands and she stared at it with disgust before wiping it hastily off onto her ragged white shirt. Her breath came in short rasps and her throat was painfully dry, the air that rushed into her lungs only parching it further, if that was possible.

She couldn't help but get the feeling that something was very wrong here. Maybe that was something to do with the fact that she couldn't grasp anything. She couldn't remember where she was or how she had got there, where she was going. Hell, she couldn't even remember who she was clearly. Every thought that crossed her mind was blurred and only made half the sense it should have. The pain in her head was ferocious and her feet ached, and she couldn't recall what had done this to her. Her vision was blurry and it kept on being tainted red and then blue, lights flashing from somewhere behind her. She was moving fast and she didn't know where to, but wherever she would stop, she was being pursued by something with a wailing siren that rang in her ears. The pain made everything harder and it was even difficult to breathe sometimes. But she forced that aside, trying to remember what had happened before.

_A single headlight illuminating the road she was racing over. Something heavy against her side, throwing her through the air. Flying. No, falling._

The memory sent her head reeling and she squeezed her eyes shut, reliving the moment. She remembered her heart feeling like it was locked in a vice as her eyes widened, she heard the squealing of rubber on the damp road. She could even remember the sickening crunch of the strong frame connecting with her side and the smacking noise her head made against the painted white stripes on the road she had attempted to cross. The only headlight of the motorbike was like a spotlight on her crumpled body but slowly all of that, all of the reality, was slipping away and in its place a thick veil of white blinded her before she lost consciousness completely, her mind smothered by the thick fog that had fell over it.

And now she was on another-or was it the very same?- motorbike, the wheels whirring and the engine purring softly as it revved, speeding along the highway, pursued by the loud police car that seemed to close more of the distance between them with every wail of the siren. Suddenly they changed course and she found herself flying over a newly mowed field, the police opting to take the road rather than follow their reckless path over someone else's property. The comforting engine was suddenly roaring as the speed dial swung around to way over 100mph. She clung tighter to the waist of the person in front of her and then her mind froze. Since when had there been someone in front of her?...Surely she should have noticed this? All this time, Jet, the fearless Jet, had been clinging to someone else, and even worse than that, she hadn't even noticed?

She splayed her fingers over the fabric of the person's jacket, feeling it slowly, moving her finger tips in and out of the cracks. For good measure she gave it a sniff and concluded it was leather. Then she slipped her arms around to the person's front and speedily slid the hands up over the flat chest, feeling over it thoroughly before being completely convinced this person was male. This was a new experience for her to be sure and she couldn't decide if she liked it or not yet. The air rushing at her face was certainly refreshing but she was scantly clad, wearing only her ragged shirt and dirty skirt, feet bare. It was all she could scavenge after growing out of her old clothes. The fact that they were the right size was only a bonus, and maybe even not. Having them big could often be good so she could ensure she could wear the clothes for a fair amount of time. Not very many women were murdered around the alleyways she had called home for the past two months, so getting new clothes was a big treat. It didn't matter if they were a few sizes too big.

_Running through the twisting alleyways, searching desperately for a way to escape arrest. She couldn't be arrested or Kira would kill her. The pain rocketing through her legs. Yes, she would have to change course and leave the alleys, go over the highway and into the forest just beyond. Lose herself in there in hope that the police officer would lose her too. _

Before she could help it, Jet was choking on the cold air she had breathed in. Tears streamed down her face and she fought to have enough air, even though it was basically being forced down her throat. Retching violently she sagged over and pulled her hands back from the male in front of her and placed her numb hands over her chest, eyes watery and wide as she gained her breath back. They were nearing the edge of the field as a smooth, deep voice called back to her. She was only just able to make out the words before they were swept away with the wind.

"Hold on, the road's bumpy up here. You'll fall off if you don't hold tight." Taking heed, the dark haired girl wrapped her arms tightly around the slender, leather clad waist, knowing that she didn't like her dependence on him one bit.

He had been right, though. The moment the wheels met the new road, they squealed and slowed slightly to cope with all of the potholes and swerve around all the murky puddles. The thought of splashing through a puddle and being soaked even more than she already was with her own blood and freezing her to the core wasn't appealing. Maybe another day, when she was drunk? Who knew? She had never been drunk before, but she heard it wasn't all that pleasant, especially afterwards. It wasn't really the time to think of this as it seemed that the police were going to catch on to them soon due to the faint wailing of the siren, but she needed to occupy her mind. A wave of pain shook her very core and she crumpled against the man in front, wincing and flinching, her hands moving spastically around on the leather. Risking another wave she raised her head to peek over his shoulder and was greeted with the mouth of a huge wide street swallowing the motorbike into darkness.

Hungry shadows seemed to pounce forwards and the only thing keeping them away was the headlight's reassuring glow. Houses loomed up, shooting straight into the dark sky. The broken windows were like eyes, their empty stares boring down on the top of Jet's bloody, throbbing head. Her body temperature was threatening to drop a degree and she was already feeling the beginnings of a cold and it only got worse as the rain splashed down from the heavy clouds that she hadn't noticed before. The siren's wailing had died away and Jet couldn't help but wonder if she had fallen asleep. The rain was washing away her blood and even though it made her cold she felt more comfortable whizzing through it rather than the dry, silent air that had clogged up her mind before. This was better.

Looking up, she could see the twinkling lights of a tacky casino coming up, the advertisements for countless new machines, offers that went out of date months ago and fading graffiti were illuminated by the little bulbs that flashed from orange to red to blue to yellow and then back to orange. It hurt the fragile girl's head and she shied away from it, ducking her head behind the shoulder of the man in front, her cheek being whipped by the silvery hair that blew out behind him. Although the whippings were harsh on her cold skin she could tell that his hair was well washed and soft like silk. She had the urge to catch one of the flying locks but as she raised her hand she realised what she was doing and dropped it back into her lap. Maybe she was in pain but she couldn't come across as needy or fragile, even though that's how she felt.

A huge wave of said pain overcame her and she crumpled down into the leather clad back, hardly able to contain a cry of anguish. Her vision blurred due to her welling tears and she roughly scrubbed at her eyes, her mind buzzing like a hive of angry wasps. And it stung like nothing she had ever felt before, not in her whole life. All of the pain seemed to drain her energy and suck it out of her like a parasite. Soon Jet, who was supposedly strong and independent, found herself leaning on the back of the man in front, his hair brushing over the top of her head as she began to fall asleep. Nothing felt realistic as her consciousness slipped out of her fingers like sand. Not the flashing casino lights that she could almost see from under her eyelids, not the whirring of the engine. The scent of burning rubber was like an illusion, the leather under her fingers a hallucination. She didn't even trust the blood that dripped down her neck to be real. Everything that had happened that day had just sped by her with all the qualities of a dream. Maybe, if she pinched herself she would wake up.

The first thing that Jet noticed when she woke was that she was no longer on a motorbike, clinging to a stranger for dear life. Already, a feeling of dread was settling over her. She was lain down on a dull coloured damp carpet that smelled vaguely of wet dog and alcohol, as if someone had recently spilled wine on it. It felt rough and her back ached from sleeping on it. When she craned her neck she could get a good view of the rest of the room, as she had been placed by the back wall. Looking down, she saw a moth-bitten tablecloth spread over her as a makeshift duvet, and she almost smiled. It was a kind thought, really.

To her right was a splintering coffee table with a broken leg. A tea mat was seemingly stuck to the frail frame and it was marred with scratches and sticky stains. The walls were painted a drab shade of green, only just visible under the peeling and curling grey wall paper. The walls weren't decorated and aside from the table there was only one other piece of furniture in the whole space. In the far corner by the yellowing wood door, a couch leaned on the wall, sagging into itself as if someone had flopped down on it one to many times. The cushioning was ripped, dirt coloured stuffing sticking out. Even from where she lay she could see the cigarette burn markings from someone stubbing out their cigarettes on the dull yellow fabric. A lone spider scuttled around in the corner above, weaving another web to add to the countless collection over the room. Despite its dirty and dank looks, the place smelt well lived in and something about that was close to comforting.

Going to stretch, something was keeping her wrists together. Biting on her lip and frowning, the young girl peered up and gasped softly, seeing the thick rope tying her wrists together. This wasn't good. Not good at all. Glancing around the room in a desperate attempt to find something to cut the rope with she saw a pocket knife placed carefully on the sofa arm. Sighing with relief, she began to stand up, the linen tablecloth falling from her body, but then something caught her eye. Something about her clothes. Her eyes trailed down and she let out a small squeak before blushing at the ridiculous noise. Whatever she was wearing, it certainly wasn't hers. She wore a pair of tight-as-hell leather trousers and a long sleeved black and white striped top in place of her usual dirty skirt and ragged shirt. If she wasn't wearing her own clothes, someone must have changed her in her sleep. Blush deepening, Jet shook her head roughly and walked to the arm of the sofa, sitting down and breathing in the heavy scent of smoke and nicotine.

Her feet were covered with large black boots so she couldn't grip the pocket knife between them, and eventually she let out an aggravated huff and gave up. This wasn't going her way in the slightest. Kicking the pocketknife down to the floor in her spite she stood from the surprisingly comfy sofa and edged towards the door, wary of what would be behind it. With some difficulty, she managed to turn the handle and pull it open, making sure not to let it hit the wall. Cautiously she peered around the room that had now been revealed. It appeared to be some sort of back room and kitchen. The walls were the same dank green from under the wallpaper in the other room and the tiles were grimy. The only clean things were a large box of chocolate bars which she had to keep herself from stealing, a TV, a stack of games and an assortment of games consoles. Those sorts of expensive appliances didn't seem to fit in with the simple surroundings.

Behind her was a dirty window that she could only just see through. It was grey but light outside and every now and then a puff of dark smoke rose and billowed past the window from the end of a cigarette. It seemed like one of the inhabitants of this place was taking a smoke outside rather than on the sofa. If she squinted, peering to the left, she could just make out an overflowing bin and beside that a flame of red hair. Deciding against seeking out the door to that path to talk to this person, Jet turned and walked towards the door that was positioned by an unused looking fridge that smelled of out of date dairy products. Curiously, she opened the door, and amidst all of the moulding cheeses and sour milk cartons, stacks and stacks of instant ramen were piled in abundance. In fact, she noted, the only kitchen appliance that was actually being used around here was a sparkling kettle, the markings on the on/off buttons wearing off. Did the people here eat any nutritious food at all? It seemed that they didn't.

Shaking her head, she closed over the fridge door, glad to escape the disgusting smell of mouldy cheese, and pushed open the next door. The light in here was blindingly bright and Jet had to shield her eyes with the crook of her arm, squinting slightly despite her efforts. This room appeared to be a garage. One wall was lined with pots of drying paints, rollers and saws, one shelf even piled with matches and bullets. In a box by the door a pile of broken guns lay, waiting to be put out into a bin. In the very centre 3 vehicles sat proudly. A stunning red corvette was pulled in at the far side, the keys in the ignition as if it was going be getting used soon. On the other side, nearer the shelves and boxes, a sleek black Ferrari that oozed sexiness, not a speck of dust marring its shiny onyx surface, emitted a glow. In between these was a speedy-looking black motorbike, a helmet hanging from the worn handlebars. Over the leather seat a heavy leather riding jacket was slung and Jet concluded this must have been the motorbike that had taken her here. So where was the rider…? It couldn't be the redhead outside, she remembered the silky hair was silvery in the moonlight, probably blonde in daylight.

A boot crunched down on the gravel outside the open garage door and with a muffled squeak the teen hopped over the box of broken guns and into the shadows in the corner of the shelf-lined wall. She winced when she felt a scalpel slicing her back but held back the small cry that she felt build up in the back of her throat. Blood slowly began to trickle out from the edges of the scalpel that was still in her back. The pain built up slowly until she couldn't take it, and just as a tall, blonde male sauntered into the garage she jerked away from it, the scalpel clattering to the cement flooring. The blonde head snapped around and sharp blue eyes pinpointed her without trouble. Quirking a perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow he cleared his throat and Jet stepped out into the bright light, wincing as it reached her eyes. She could feel the blood soaking the shirt she wore and wondered how big the rip was as she glared half-heartedly at the blonde, stomping around him in her boots.

"Yes, you caught me." She sighed, her tone blunt. She could almost feel the smugness radiating from the man who was seemingly following behind her to make sure she went back to the right room.

Behind her, the blonde scrutinized the rip in the top she wore and frowned. Matt wouldn't be happy about that, but at least it hadn't been his leather vest. He would have killed the girl if that had been so. Her hair was sticking to the liquid and he scrunched up his nose in disgust. The girl really needed a wash, to be frank. He didn't know what had come over him last night when he had pulled her onto the back of his motorbike and sped away with her to save her from arrest. Surely it would have been smarter to let her be arrested if she was committing crimes? But no, he had to be the hero. Letting out an aggravated sigh, he watched as she flopped down on to the floor where she had started and leaned back on the wall with a sad sigh, her stomach rumbling. She didn't seem to care if her blood stained the wall paper and Mello couldn't bring himself to tell her to move. She looked famished.

Jet was reasoning that maybe her blood would add colour to the unattractive wallpaper, slumping backwards. Although she had only just woke up she was already feeling tired again. Maybe that was because she hadn't eaten in over a day and a half? She couldn't bring herself to care too much, but what she wouldn't give for one of those bars of chocolate right now! As her stomach rumbled painfully loud she elbowed herself in the ribs, trying to make it stop. Of course it didn't really have the desired effect, only sending a shooting pain into her ribs, but it was the tiring effort that counted, right? Yes, that was right. Letting herself slip in and out of consciousness, the world beginning to have the scary dream-like state again, Jet was startled as something hard and rectangular hit her square in the face, waking her up instantly. She looked down at the rectangle that was now lying in her lap, wrapped in silver foil. Was this…Chocolate?

Eyes flashing with hope and hunger, she fiddled with the foil, ignoring the heavy stare of the blonde. When the chocolate fell from its wrapping into her lap she picked it up and scrutinized it, breathing in its rich smell. Unable to hold back any longer she devoured it hungrily, savouring the beautiful sweet taste that melted over her tongue. This was pure bliss, she noted, her stomach definitely agreeing. Looking up at the figure that leaned on the doorframe warily, wondering if the chocolate had been poisoned or this was some sort of ploy. Behind him, the door in the kitchen opened and the redhead from before stepped inside, scuffing his boots on the grubby floor and then shutting the door after him to keep out the biting chill.

The telltale scrambling from the kitchen told her that he was getting out a game and a pot of instant ramen. A moment later her assumptions were proved correct as the hissing of a kettle filled the air. Game music was playing quietly under the hissing and a moment later, the kettle slowly bubbling and hissing away in the counter, the redhead slipped past the blonde and collapsed wearily onto the sofa, earning a tired groan from the sofa's springs. Mello sent the boy a scathing look but the redhead didn't notice.

"Matt. Turn the fucking game _off_! Can't you see we have a…Visitor?" There was some sarcasm in his voice as he said the last sentence, and the boy she came to understand was called Matt looked up from his game, sparing her a quick glance before pausing his game and laying it to the side.

"Hm." He replied shortly, obviously not enjoying having his gaming time disrupted. The blond rolled his eyes but got straight to the point, turning to address Jet.

"This is Matt, and I'm Mello. Who the hell are you?"

**_Well, I did my best to make this one longer, seeing as the last one was pretty short. Did you like it?  
__Well, Matt and Mello have made their appearance, but what will happen next? Actually, I've kind of got it half planned out but I'm not telling!  
_****_Reviewers get cookies (: Flames will be used to keep me warm when I finally get to sleep (:  
_****_See y'all in a week or so!  
_****_~Trouble X_**


	4. 15 Minutes of Fame As a Hostage

**_It was more than a week, wasn't it? -.-_**

Even after all the years of telling herself that she ought not build up hope in anyone, she found herself hoping that these two people would not judge her for being a criminal. She was hoping they would accept her alias as a name and that they would understand she had to steal to live. It was robbery or death, and she always felt there was a reason to live. Everyone had to live their life to find out what the meaning was, though it wouldn't always be evident on the journey. And so she cast her eyes up to meet sharp blue ones, all these thoughts whirring through her brain at the speed of light, and considered her chances. Always the one to be optimistic, she rated them as being high and smiled at the idea of something going her way.

"My name's Jet." Her voice was thick and melodic and it was the first time that Mello had taken any notice of it's soothing quality. It was one of those voices that could lull you to sleep but also sharply wake you up.

Knowing it was an alias, Mello took a moment to cast his mind back and try and remember if she had once been at Wammy's, but couldn't remember a Jet. Shaking his head, he considered his options, making a soft humming noise as Matt slowly picked up his DS and put it onto mute, still listening absentmindedly as he began to mash the buttons again. Mello sent him a half-hearted glare before returning his attention to his thoughts. Maybe a bit more interrogation couldn't hurt. Agreeing silently with himself, he let his eyes rest on the expectant younger girl who sat patiently against the wall, bringing her knees to her chest. It was, he mussed, almost exactly as L sat. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he addressed her with a monotone voice.

"Okay, Jet. Why were you running from the police?" He dismissed all of the subtleties and got straight to the point. Eyes widening, the auburn haired girl looked taken aback by the sudden question. But the hope was still there, in the back of her mind, so she answered with confidence.

"I was running from the police as I was caught stealing from a local corner shop." Short and sweet, she kept on telling herself, willing herself not to ramble. That would lessen her chances and she might spin a small lie that she wouldn't remember if she were asked again. Mello nodded acceptingly.

"Did you often steal?" Jet nodded curtly, the small smile still in place. Her past could not get her down if she were to ever move on.

"Yes, since I was 7 years old when I was abandoned by my foster parents."

That was a lie, of course. There had been no choice on the subject of her leaving. Dream Children had to be let go at 7 or things would get nasty, and so she had left, but she told that lie to everyone. She wasn't going to tell every person who asked about her whole history and the whole legend behind it. No, the only proof of her being the product of a legend was the forever dimming azure scar that was now reduced to a small crack-like line at her hairline, just above her right ear. So now everyone who asked was under the illusion that she was abandoned by her faithful and doting foster parents. Of course it felt like a betrayal to them and it belittled their endless care for her. They had always loved her and there was no lie behind that.

Mello scrutinized her slightly subdued smile as she finally dropped her gaze from his, staring into her lap as if she were hiding something. Deciding not to press on the matter, he thought more about his own problem. How would he execute this operation? You couldn't exactly be tactful when telling a young girl that you were going to put her in serious danger for the sake of a fully loaded gun. No, he would have to be his usual tactless self, because that was all he knew. A frown appeared on his scarred face as he mussed over this. He really had to develop his social skills, because they were at a crucial level currently. It wasn't doing him any favours, needless to say.

"I think I may have a job for you." He stated, not able to meet her suddenly curious gaze that had flickered up from her lap. She had no experience in dealing with females. He had heard they were far more emotional and emotional meant sensitive and fragile to Mello. He didn't want to break her, because that would be a sure inconvenience in his plans.

From the corner of his eyes, Mello saw Matt lift his head from his game slowly, and peer curiously at Jet as if he had never seen her before. Perhaps this really was out of character, trusting someone else with a job, the blonde considered. But Matt had every right to be curious. Mello hardly ever trusted him, and the redhead was his closest friend. He knew him better than anyone else, yet suddenly he went and picked up a criminal from the streets. He had let her wear his clothes and he was now even trusting her with a job, all in the space of 16 hours. Matt had been curious about the young girl. She looked rough around the edges, worn down, as if she had seen things that no normal teen had seen. She had been sleeping for so long, as if she hadn't slept decently for years. He remembered how amused he had felt as he watched Mello struggle not to look at her body as he changed her into the clothes. Yes, he had known this girl would have a purpose at some point. Mello would only be nice to others if it was in his best interests.

Jet stayed silent as the two boys seemed to muss over the events that had occurred before silently communicating with each other. It was taking all her might not to snap at them to hurry up and give her a job. It was not in character to be this bright and kind. She would normally be snarling and snapping and threatening, but these two men held potential. They could help her, give her purpose to keep on going. When she had heard that she may be getting a job, her heart had soared. It was like getting a present for the first time in years, and she couldn't help but hold onto all her hope that things would go her way. The long pauses were starting to feed on her optimism, though, and she felt her odds of being optimistic crumbling.

"Yes, I have a job. It's dangerous…" Mello began, seemingly hesitating again. He really didn't want to break her because then she'd be useless, but…

"Go on." She sighed, finally fed up of waiting. A blonde eyebrow quirked at her impatience, but complied, going on with his explanation.

"When out on my motorbike I became involved in a fistfight with a gang of thugs. In this fight I lost my gun, and I need it back. I would like you to go to the gang's meeting place and get my gun back. I know it's there." He was confident that they would find his gun there, but he wasn't keen to go back. He wasn't a fan of fistfights, even when he always won. The victory wasn't worth the pain.

The pale girl thought about it. What would be the harm in trying? Well, a lot of harm could be done, but to hell with it. She had to do something to have a reason to stay here. Already she was planning how to get the gun back…Thugs? Well, thugs meant whores and alcohol. She could get them drunk while acting as a whore, being seductive and the like. She would drink them under the table and then she would give them their fair share of punches while they were unconscious before retrieving the gun and getting the hell out. She smirked as the plan formed in her mind before looking up at Mello to accept.

"Yeah, sure." She said casually, eyes sparkling. Her imagination had no limits, but she hadn't had the chance to use it lately. "But I'm going to need some stuff first." Mello only raised his eyebrows but nodded, motioning for her to tell him what she needed. After sorting out the list in her head, she began.

_-Line-_

As Jet walked into the garage with a silent Matt, Mello couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and shake his head. Her idea wasn't complex, just…Well, you could say it was outside of the box. If he had had to retrieve his gun he would have got Matt to go into the hideout with him and beat the shit out of them all before grabbing it and running. But she had come up a plan with minimum violence and maximum creativity.

She was dressed in one of Mello's leather vests and had managed to clean up her short skirt enough that it complimented her figure rather than swamp it. Her hair had been cleaned in the sink and brushed and now it lay loose like flowing auburn water. She had cleaned her hands and face and used a knife to shave her legs, even though they were almost completely smooth, and she even went as far as to venture into the boxes in the garage and found charcoal that had been left by the apartment's last owners. She had outlined her eyes quickly but when no further, and now she was sauntering out with her 'whore-swagger' as she had jokingly put it, in her outfit and big black boots.

Jumping into the red corvette convertible, she let out an awed gasp. She hadn't ever been inside a car, and the interior of this one was simply gorgeous. Slowly, she ran her fingertips over the controls on the dashboard and stereo, fingering the fans and speakers curiously. Matt watched in slight amusement before stepping into the car via the door rather than her unprofessional bunny hop that had shown off slightly too much of her now-clean underwear. Well, he reasoned, she was trying to be a whore, so she had to be somewhat revealing. As they reversed out of the garage and set off towards the alleyways, Jet hid her nerves well by feigning more curiosity.

"You can put on the radio, if you like." He told her, seeing her eye the switches longingly. He knew she was nervous, but Mello was confident everything would turn out fine.

Slowly, she flicked the switch, and after a moment's loading music thundered from the speakers. Jumping back, she fiddled with the notched that had the word 'volume' printed above it. Slowly, the volume decreased and she leaned forward to catch every word of the song. Being a homeless child, you didn't hear much music other than the stuff that pours out of the musty bars she walked past. Well, Mello had said everything was going to be okay and she trusted his judgement, so she was going to do this for herself as well as him. Her thieving skills might finally be of use to someone other than her. But still, at the back of her mind, tiny alarm bells were tinkling and she couldn't help but bite her lip softly, not so sure of herself anymore. Everything could go wrong in the blink of an eye.

-_Line_

She stood, shifting from foot to foot, in the main room of the dull hideout. There were at least 7 burly looking men who were getting increasingly drunk. She was way out of her comfort zone, and she hadn't realised how horrible the life of a whore must be until they had started touching her and crooning suggestive comments. She wasn't sure that a gun was really worth losing her innocence over, but she was doing her best to be responsive in the right way with them. She couldn't blow her cover, even if having their grotty hands under her skirt made her squirm and want to throw up. The air around her was warm and the light tinted the whole room a strange dark yellow that was severely unflattering on their greasy, puckered skin. Just as she was beginning to settle into the background, the door swung open and someone who looked vaguely familiar sauntered in.

"Hello, ladies." He said, addressing the 7 men who were seated before him. He was obviously the leader of the gang. It was obvious by the way he oozed confidence, and she stared in awe at his immense height. It was like the room had somehow got smaller and he was filling it right up. If it hadn't felt cramped in the dingy space before, it did now. He didn't notice the small figure of Jet cowering back into the corner for a few moments but as soon as he did he eyed her up and down hungrily, his arousal already evident. Seemingly, he was going to be harder to handle than expected. "Who's this, then?" He crooned at her as if she was a child, and she very suddenly felt like one. It was difficult to keep from cowering away from him in plain sight, to shifting towards the door, but she stood her ground like she knew she had to.

"Some whore who was on the street. Thought she might be to your liking." One piped up before chugging back beer. The bulb flickered as the wind howled outside but it didn't go out, thankfully. The lighting was dulling, though, and Jet was praying she got out of the hideout before it gave out on her and plunged them all into darkness.

It all happened in a flash. The newcomer cornered her, towering above her, and had his hand in her pants, the other on her developing breast, something hard pressing into her stomach. She was tiny compared to him, but that didn't seem to bother him. As he sought out a small point that made her squirm, she elbowed him hard in the ribs and used his shock as an advantage, kicking him in the shins. A collective gasp ran around the room and anger flashed in the tall man's eyes. He probably wasn't used to that reaction, it seemed, from the flash of malevolent shock that danced in his eyes menacingly.

"Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?" He snarled, spit spraying onto her face disgustingly. His breath smelled heavily of tobacco and alcohol and it wasn't pleasant. She couldn't help but cringe away from the repulsive smell. She shot him a level glare and answer with a right hook that sent him reeling backwards onto the table, sending the beer bottles flying. The table shook under impact and for a moment it looked like it was going to collapse onto the gang of thugs' knees. Swiftly, Jet climbed on top of him and leaned down to mutter in his ear.

"My name's Jet. You might remember me." She had remembered as soon as he had started touching her who this man was. His arousal was pressing on her inner thigh and as soon as she felt it she punched him in the face, breaking his nose and drawing a pained yelp from him. He had certainly remembered now, and he hadn't been expecting that. A sadistic smirk played on her face as she leered over him, flicking the tender area with a bony finger, eliciting a whine that told of horrible pain. She knew she ought not to tease him but it was far too tempting.

Strong arms seized her pale wrists as she went for another punch, and she was pulled from the table by her hands, being suspended in mid-air. This wasn't ideal, needless to say. She tried to fight back, kicking out at her captor, but the kicks landed just short of his swamped body. Huffing and struggling all the while, he sauntered over to the wall where a pile of rusting chains sat, waiting. Jet couldn't help but find it amusing how he felt the need to keep his swagger in place, even in a crucial time like this. She had just assaulted his leader and he was still trying to impress him. Her amusement didn't last long, though, as another man bound her wrists with the chains and then hung her on the wall by a strong hook that had been drilled into the brick. The pain of the chain links digging into her wrists was near enough excruciating, but that was nothing compared to what came next. A hard punch connected with her stomach, winding her. But that wasn't the last of it. Another punch, and then another landed on her and they didn't seem to stop, hitting her hips, her ribs, her head, her arms, her legs…The list went on, and it took all of her willpower not to cry out in the sudden onslaught of pain.

Angered hisses and sadistic laughter echoed in her mind as it slowly stopped and she found herself gasping for air as her head was wrenched down to tie a rough cloth over her eyes, obstructing her vision. She found herself slipping in and out of consciousness, grasping at whatever she could to keep herself awake, but as her head became heavier and heavier, she found herself drifting off into a pained sleep, if you could even call it that. The last thing she heard was a loud call of: "Get the camera out and call the news." The speaker had gone on, but his gruff voice had just filtered out to nothingness as sleep got the better of her and took her under.

Light Yagami watched the news without interest, waiting for something that was worth his undivided attention to feature on the show. His Death Note was laid out in front of him, open to a clean page, a pen lying beside it, perfectly aligned. There had hardly been any criminals on the news lately, and it was boring him to no end. He wanted some action…Yes, Light wanted to _kill_ and reign justice over the world. Of course, the world was cleansed to an extent now he had murdered as many criminals as he possible could, but it still wasn't over yet. There were plentiful amounts of humans that were not worthy of his New World, and he had to eliminate them.

Downstairs, he could hear his mum cooking dinner and humming tunelessly while Sayu listened to tacky pop music with techno beats, singing along with her high pitched voice. Hideki Ryuga was not all that good a singer, in his opinion, but he was still on every music station all the time. He couldn't help but think that had it not been for the vast majority of teenage girls falling head over heels with his looks, he wouldn't be so well known or popular. Pondering over this, Light was startled from his reverie as the screen of his TV quickly changed to a live tape.

"Okay, Kira, we got a sacrifice for you!" A slightly drunken voice slurred, the camera wavering slightly as it focused on a young girl, who was bleeding and blindfolded. "This girl, she's done some bad stuff, and we're gonna let her tell you everything you need to know to cast judgement on her….Or somethin'…" The man tailed off and the girl turned her head from side to side wildly, trying to see something or seek out comfort.

"My name is Jet Harrows." She said quietly, sniffing loudly before continuing, her voice thick from a heavy nosebleed. Her nose didn't look like it was broken, but she was certainly in fair amounts of pain. "I have committed theft a number of times for a living. I steal food as I am hungry and have no other source. I'm homeless, and I have been for several years. Now kill me." She snapped at the end, getting angry. Light sighed but didn't hesitate to scrawl down her name lazily.

'_Jet Harrows, dies of heart attack while on live TV, having been held hostage, in 20 seconds.'_

The world waited as she sucked in a deep breath and counted down her last seconds. As her air supply ran short, she breathed out and in quickly through her nose, and she felt her time slipping from between her fingers…

_10_

It was a horrible feeling, the suspense, not knowing when your life will end, cherishing each breath because you never know what one will be your last…She wanted someone to hold on to, to give her confidence… She had never wanted that before. She had never wanted to hold someone's hand. She had always been alone and she was fine with that. She could live.

_9_

She could hear the men shifting around, hear the soft buzz of the recording camera. She knew that the world wanted her to die, because they were impatient. The suspense was horrible for them too.

_8_

She tipped her head back, exposing the developing bruises on her jawline and neck, the black blossoms that spread over her collarbone and arms. She was still being suspended by the chains and she had long since lost the feeling in her wrists, though the blood still reached her hands. She could feel the warm liquid circulating through her cooling fingers.

_7_

She tried to bend her legs and fingers but her joints protested, aching and making her wince. This wasn't convenient, in the least. Her feet felt heavy, like lead weights that were trying to pull her legs down to the ground. She felt like her very being was defying the laws of gravity and it wasn't comfortable from any aspect. Not even a masochist could enjoy this.

_6_

The seconds seemed to pass far too slow. Each tick of the thug's watch was like a drum, echoing in her ears, taking hours for the sound to filter our and a few moments of silence before there was another bang. It was excruciating, the wait like an intensifying itch on the part of your back you couldn't reach without looking like a spaz.

_5_

She knew she was just trying to occupy her mind with anything and everything as the time fell away like sand. First it had been too slow and now it seemed to be passing much to fast, but unevenly. It was somehow even more annoying than the slug's pace from before.

_4_

Well, she'd had a good time, with Matt and Mello, right? The ride to the hideout had been hilarious, the loud music and laughing at Matt and his driving 'skills'. Sometimes the manoeuvres used made it evident that he was a gamer. She had never played a game or really appreciated music…Even the car itself had been magical.

_3_

She wished she had been given the chance to enjoy the motorbike ride, though. In fact, she just wished she had had more time with Mello. The blonde had seemed promising, the type of guy who would be interesting. But she tried not to regret not getting to know him. The time she had had with him was good, she supposed…

_2_

She could feel her last seconds disappearing like sand through her fingers. She tried to smile, but the nerves in her face were frozen. No! She wanted to smile before she died…It was only fair, and it was the kind of thing she had always promised herself to do. Of course, she hadn't expected to die this way, but that made no difference, not really.

_1_

Just as the last second came and went, she forced a smile onto her face and the whole world watched, frozen, as her designated time came around…

_**Aaaand, I leave you with a cliffhanger! I apologise for the late update and swear I'll do better next time. LARA IS A GOOD GIRL! Eheheh...Yeah, my name's Lara o: I didn't tell you that, huh? Well, it's 6:24 and I haven't went to sleep yet, I've got a lot of homework to do and a friend to meet at 3 in the afternoon...And I'm being squished by two annoying dogs who don't seem to like the idea of me being comfortable...So please excuse any mistakes! Oooh, the stress! Bah. I hate mornings. **_

_**Anyway, Light's made an appearance now, and we're coming up to awesome sauce! Be sure to read the next chapter, when I get around to posting it (: Reviews are welcome. Flames will be used to re-heat my foodies.  
Much love and tata,  
Lara! (AKA Trouble.)~X **_


	5. Alcohol Beatings and Echoing Gunfire

**_Yeah, it's pretty short. Please excuse any mistakes, I did it as good as I could. Reasons for the EXTREMELY slow update later.  
For now, enjoy!  
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of it's characters. I only own my OC and this plot-line. _**

Another second passed…And then another. Jet swallowed back a deep breath of sticky, humid air and blinked, slowly. Did seconds normally take this long? Surely not. Her thin brows furrowed and her intense eyes swept over the jumbled room before her, the room that the camera could not see. It couldn't see the buckling table and the disordered chair. The public who this was being broadcasted to could only see part of the picture. They couldn't see the gang who loomed at her like vultures over prey; they couldn't see the bloodied nose of the man gripping the camera in sweating hands. And most importantly, the camera wasn't seeing her die. How could this be? The logical part of her mind calmly told her that _Jet Harrows isn't your real name_. How can someone who kills by knowing the names of the victim kill someone who doesn't even have a real name? It's impossible. A swell of joy and smugness rose up in her chest, and she had to push away the taunting smirk that threatened to form on her lips. She didn't need any more beating; she was already in a state as it was. But the irrational part of her begged her to keep on being afraid. There wasn't a way in hell that she would be spared for the crimes she had committed, no matter how small or of what significance. Since when had Kira been known to show mercy on any criminal who got their name and/or face shown? Simple and obvious answer being he didn't and showed no signs of mercy for wrongdoers. She wouldn't be an exception.

And so she continued to eye the camera curiously, the grin slipping onto her face when she let her guard down. Her eyes were filled with wariness and interest as she used her feet for leverage, pushing herself closer to the lens. Was the camera even working? Could the people of the world and the most feared judge possibly be seeing this if she wasn't limp, dead, by now? It just didn't make sense. If anything, she should at least be getting killed on impulse, if that was how Kira wished to kill her. Ignoring a pain that should have been blinding, she tried to lick the lens, her more mischievous side peeking out from behind the feared shadow left of herself. She wasn't very good with handling pain mixed with trauma, and she did the only thing she knew, and used the strongest, most carefree part of herself to stay strong and keep going. Straining her head forward, she did her darnedest to lick the lens with her tongue, or at least nudge it with her nose, but she was just too short. Pouting, she stayed with her face a few centimetres away from the camera, the blood coursing more heavily from the cuts on her scalp as she strained the skin with her pulling. If the world really could see this, they would see the lower half of her face, pale, with pink and black blossoming marks and blood streaking down her cheeks in rich reds. Anger getting the better of him, the leader of the little gang let go of the camera with one hand and slammed his fist down onto the crown of her head.

Choking and ripping the skin on her wrists apart even more, her upper body was pushed down forcefully by the hit that connected with her head, making it ring and pulsate, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. She didn't cry out, and she didn't let any of the tears pleading to be let out fall down her face. Crying would do nothing, if not only make her look ridiculous, so she winced and leaned back gingerly, trying to distribute more weight to her feet than her arms, jutting out her bottom lip defiantly and tilting her nose to the air. It was how she had been taught to do it before she left the Harrow's, and she could clearly remember being told keeping your head up would help you go far. She had to keep up her brash hilarity for the camera. If she was going to die, she was going to do it looking like she didn't give a fuck. Which in all honesty, she didn't, because what was she living for, anyway? That isn't to say she wanted to die, but she wasn't exactly opposed to it. Indifferent, for a better word. And so as her skin ripped and she bled out from her cuts that were within all the forming bruises, she grinned tauntingly at the man behind the camera. She wouldn't give in. Never. And she thought he better know that.

Being easily bored, her patience slowly ebbed and she began swinging herself forward using her feet for leverage, then back, all the while humming random notes under her shallow breath. She couldn't ignore this pain, the way the rusting chains grated on her tender and ripped skin, but she was doing her best not to react noticeably. The off tune notes were making a time bomb tick in the closest member's head, and soon his breath came in heaved snorts through his nose, annoyance colouring his face and eyes. Turning her dazed and aching head to him, she smiled brightly before letting her tongue peep out from between her cracking lips momentarily. It was enough to bring the brave thug storming forward, angry, but sorting his priorities. Make sure the camera's working before beating the crap out of the small girl who dared taunt him while hanging on the fucking wall. What she was doing now was being plain stupid.

The public were suddenly confronted with a more disgusting sight than the beaten girl who had swung about before them previously. They saw a dirt stained nose and watering, beady brown eyes. Tawny hair fell in greasy locks over a pock-marked sweating forehead and full lips that were chapped and bruised from forceful kisses were bitten into by yellowing teeth. The hot breath made the lens of the camera steam up and he scrutinized it before pulling his dirtied sleeve over her hand and wiping it, prodding it experimentally and seeing no reaction that would be deemed odd. He took a step back and frowned, staring evenly at the lens then letting his eyes flicker around the room before him.

"It's working." Jet muttered blandly, raising her eyebrows at the dumb man leering at the camera before her, making her press back against the wall again so he wasn't butting her in the stomach. It was painful and uncomfortable and the sooner he moved the better. He grunted in dismissal, and the girl should have left it at that and let him continue with his pondering, but the pain was buzzing in her head and that was all she could think about without a distraction. So in her pain she was brash and in the split moment of reckless abandon, she yelled at him. "Hey, it's fucking working!" She snapped, cringing as his body suddenly stiffened.

The people of the Kanto region watched as his eyes widened a fraction before narrowing to slits, and their ears could just pick out the sound of a sharp intake of breath. It happened too fast for anyone to react, and millions watched as the man straightened out, spun on his heel and smashed the bottle down on her head. She screamed as the glass cut into her scalp and alcohol that had went unfinished poured mercilessly into the cuts, each laceration burning with an unimaginable intensity. It was all she could do not to go into hysteria, and she only managed to avoid that narrowly. Many turned away as he began to yell at her as she sobbed loudly, screaming, as her hair was ripped out by oily, disgusting fists, fistful after fistful of her silky locks being thrown onto the floor as cheers erupted around the room about him. As he grabbed anther fistful, he suddenly froze and choked slightly. His breath hitched in his throat and he couldn't breathe at all. Jet watched him struggle for air without a hint of pity, watching with bitter glee as he fell to the ground, his heart stopping after the violent heart attack.

As her head dropped down so her eyes could follow him as he died, her scalp bleeding all the while, a collective gasp rippled through crowds all over Japan. Her head was in ruined, her scalp marred in trench-like bloody wounds, inflamed patches of skin where only small amounts of hair had been pulled out. Hair fell like rain down onto the ground after the dead man, following him in a soft, glowing rain, and her fading azure scar shone like a map over her inflamed scalp. Silence claimed the room as every living being's eyes turned to the dead man on the floor. No-one could answer what had happened, how he had so suddenly died. Quite frankly, the hanging girl didn't care, but it was apparent the rest of them did. As one of his closest friends went to shake him, a huge bang rattled the room violently. The Dream Child's tear-reddened eyes snapped up and stared at the redhead outlined in the door, gun in hand. Behind him, a blonde in leather approached, and a complete shambles ensued.

Gang members scrambled to find weapons but it was too late. Mello had reached the door and was standing there, anger burning so brightly in his sharp eyes that even from the 10metres or so Jet was from him, she could pick it out. "DROP WHAT YOU ARE HOLDING!" He roared, making the teenage girl's head pulse violently. They didn't take another telling, even the leader dropping the camera with a sickening crack to the ground. Matt stood there, eyes ablaze under his goggles, as he took aim and fired bullets through flesh and bone, killing the members rapid fire. It was no surprise that the redhead was so good with his aim after all the computer games he seemed to play, but 5 straight headshots was a feat for anyone. Of course, everyone makes mistakes, and one misfired, aiming for the leader who stood just off from in front of the helpless girl. The bullet embedded itself in her arm and she screamed, unable to hold it back. A sadistic chortle echoed around the room as the man who had once held the camera watched in glee, taking Mello and Matt's momentary distraction as a chance to run.

Bullets were fired down the street after him and Matt gave chase, but Mello stayed behind to get the young girl down from the wall and make sure she would survive getting back to base. He cussed angrily as he worked the chains off her wrists, over her hands, and saw the raw state of them and at the bloody hole from the bullet in her right arm. It wasn't even like he or Matt were experts in first aid, nor did they have the facilities to tend to her. It was looking like her arm would be left immobile with a bulled embedded in the bicep if they couldn't extract it. But now was no time to think of this, and he quickly lowered her to the ground, finding she could just about put weight on her left foot, though not her right. Each movement she made seemed to cause her strain and the blonde couldn't help but cringe as the nearly bald, wounded girl who seemed like just a child, hobble away before him.

He cast an eye about and spotted a rickety shelf in the corner. Without further ado he went to check for his gun, and as expected, found it on the top shelf. Yanking it down and blowing off a thin layer of dust, he smiled brightly at his pride and joy, stuffing it back in his pocket. He couldn't help be feel slightly smug as he turned to walk back out to accompany Matt back to base. But he'd forgotten about the small figure who stumbled away slowly. She hopped and limped away, seeming to have broken an ankle, and finally made it to the door. She saw the goggled man walk towards her quickly as her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp, falling forward into the dark, muddy sleep, face planting the hard tarmac. She didn't even feel the blood spill out onto her face as she blacked out.

**_Okaaay! Enjoy? Hopefully!  
Right, down to business. As you probably guessed, I'm still pretty young and therefore taking a lot of tests in school, especially this time of year as it's coming up to the hellish holiday-mucked-up-bit! So I've been hella busy, but whenever I've got the chance I've been adding oneshots onto my profile, so if I'm taking ages to update, take a peek on there and you might find something to entertain you (: To warn you, it's all boyxboy (I almost said bobxboy. xD!). I've had crappy writers block for this story so the updates will come a LOT slower than one a week, but I'll do my best to put up a variety of one-shots in the meantime. I'll do my best to type the next chapter up soon as I have a pretty good idea what I'm going to do for it, but patience well and truly is a virtue.  
_****_Reviews and criticism are welcome, anything you might want to see happen, any requests for those mini oneshots I do, pop 'em in a review and I'll do my best! Reviewers get cookies (Even flamers) Though any abusive or stupid reviews will get living hell back. Oh, an maybe a burnt cookie. S'their own fault for flaming the fucking cookie!  
Right, must dash, got homework to do and it's midnight.  
Tata~ x _**


	6. Blood on Leather Seats

**_Ohmahgawsh...Forgive me for the hugely slow update! Exams, exams and more exams D: Either way... Sorry /3  
Hope you enjoy the chapter, darlings! I'll try to make up for my absence.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note etc etc. _**

Her unconscious mind was filled with smoky coiling swirls unfolding onto an inky black background. It was silent, but somewhat warm. She could smell a rusty salt-like scent, but it was faint, being acknowledged in the realms of her murky mind. She felt the warmth lick at her skin like flames, but they didn't burn, so she didn't struggle to move away from the smoke. It wasn't likely that anything better resided within the bare, lonesome darkness that awaited her outside the smoke's protective walls. Through the numbness of any coherent feeling, she could sense her body was broken. It wasn't a shock, she just couldn't remember why she was in that state. Lying on the blackness and being blanketed by smoke, she strained her eyes to see any sort of light. The smoke was pinning her to the black and she couldn't bring herself to move, struggling against it being the last thing on her mind. She simply wanted to lie there in the warm and sleep. Maybe when she woke up, she would regain her senses…

But maybe she didn't want to. As Jet began to wake, she didn't open her eyes. It would be a huge effort, and it was taking a lot of her will power not to scream. Everything hurt- her arms, her scalp, her face, her legs, her chest and stomach, her back. The pain alternated between aching, burning and piercing, and no matter how much she willed her mind to think of something that might make her forget about the pain, nothing could smother the feeling out. Convulsions wracked her body, and with every spasmodic movement she made a new area in her body flame up in pain. She wanted to open her eyes, to stop what was causing the pain, sooth it and bandage herself before finding somewhere to sleep in the cold alleys, but all she could manage was to lift a shaky arm to her face and smear a traitor tear over her cheek. This simple movement felt like it was much larger and strenuous that it really was, and after completing the action her arm flopped back down uselessly.

A canine-like whine rose in the back of her throat and she couldn't hold it back. Nothing could quite match up to this pain, and she decided the whine was well deserved. She had held back the tears, leaving them stinging and unshed in her eyes, and choked back the dry sobs for at least 2 minutes. With the amount of pain she was going through, 2 minutes may as well be 4 hours. But she had battled with herself, trying to calm her body, force it into submission, because the jerking of her limbs was not helping her case. It wasn't for another of these stretching minutes, that she realised she was moving and that there were other people there. With these two pieces of information clicking together like parts of a puzzle, the dam holding back her memories broke and everything that had happened in the last 5 hours flooded into her mind like ice cold water. She supposed it was just because her mind was waiting for a coherent thought to form. Her brain went into lock down and suddenly everything went blank as she watched herself be beaten, feeling helpless and frail.

In a moment of idiocy she allowed herself a small, shivering sob. It was too late, and by the time she realised this a huge bout of others were flowing from her rough throat mercilessly. Her sobs shook her body, increasing the pain, reducing her to a sobbing, bloody mess. And still she couldn't open her eyes. She tried to speak, tried to choke out something that made sense, but her voice wouldn't come. A fresh howl of angst rolled from her bitter tasting mouth, and it echoed in her head, dying out at last as another jerk rippled over her front and into her shoulders. Her whole mind focused on feeling something else, she soon began to feel the leather of the seat that her blood was soaking out onto, and the smooth seatbelt that held her in place. So she was in a car… The windows must be open, then, she thought, feeling the air whip at her face as the car accelerated. The thought was drowned out by a sudden jerk of her head, causing her to smack it back onto the window. She was sitting up? Maybe that was why her stomach was so cramped up and tense.

Struggling to regain control on her body, she tried to slide downwards, the aches in her back making themselves heard as she sobbed, her efforts at being silent going to ruins. She was half way down, shoulders propped in a surprisingly sore way on the ledge of the window, when her feet hit the other side of the car with a sickening thud that stung in her ears. It probably wouldn't have seemed all that loud to anyone else, but her senses were heightened by the pain and it was apparent that she had done something to her ankles and/or feet, if the zinging pain that raced up her legs was anything to go by. Groaning, she eased herself back up so she was slightly more comfortable, and tried to relax her body to numb the pain slightly, but the sharp movements would not cease and she was soon jerking about like a puppet on string, helpless. She couldn't stop and she couldn't ease the pain, she couldn't even form thoughts that made any sense.

"Gh….Ah….Tch…Nmph…" She forced out, the best she could do to form words. It was enough to make her proud of herself. She had made a noise that wasn't a sob or a cry of pain. She had _almost_ formed words.

Mello looked around from his place in the passenger seat and grimaced. He had tried to keep from looking at the wreck of a girl who lay in the back seat, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had peeked around to see. At first glance she looked like she was simply tired and dirty, but if you paused and looked for a moment later that dirty tired girl morphed into a bloody lump that sagged against the seat. If you watched for another couple of moments you would see the blood pouring from her, the flow slowing but the spasmodic movements never stopping. It was like watching death and pain for the first time. Like watching a horror movie that you couldn't pause or turn away from.

Slowly but surely, the girl began to open her eyes. They watered and were bloodshot, and a couple of tears raced down her face upon them opening and being exposed to the lashes of night air. Sight didn't come to her, but she knew her eyes were open because of the air that touched at the delicate surface. For a few glorious moments she fought against the urge to blink- she was certain that if she blinked she wouldn't be able to find the will to open her eyes again. After a few seconds, she blinked and managed to heave her eyelids upwards, feeling extremely accomplished. This time, her sight started to phase in and out, not in focus yet, but she was able to make out the rough outline of things. She could see her body twist and shake about, pick out where the white of her skin was tainted with red and black. She could see blossoming bruises and limbs at awkward angles. Somehow, that didn't matter.

She could feel the warmth of blood spreading over her skin, wetting her clothes and making them stick to her. Easing herself slowly, she tried to move herself again, this time into a sitting position against the seat. The way her spine protested was nothing compared to the zinging pain still racing up her legs, and so she was easily able to ignore it. She moved methodically, focusing every ounce of her mind onto the awkward shunts she could muster up. She was sitting, leaning on the window, and began using her ruined hands to push herself to lean against the back of the seat. Her wrists burned and bled but still she ploughed on- she wouldn't be beaten by something so insignificant as bleeding wrists when she was working with broken bones and torn skin. Soon, she sat against the leather, and let out a shaky laugh in between the whines and sobs.

It was easier to look out the window now, and this she took advantage of. She stared out over the city as the car twisted and turned, swerving around corners and narrowly dodging objects littered over the streets. A new view was presented to her curious, pained eyes every couple of minutes as they skidded around yet another street corner, but the image that never left the background of the  
scene was the sun rising like amber flames in the sky.

**_Stories always look longer on a word document...I deserve whatever criticism you can give me. :/  
_****_Moving on- I may not update for a while, (AGAIN), but like I said last time, I might be putting other stories up on my profile if you want to check that out instead? I don't know. I'm not completely inactive, though.  
_****_Reviews get hugs from a character of choice. I'm sure they don't REALLY mind!  
Okies, bye bye lovelies!  
_****_Lara~x_**


	7. Losing My Pride, Losing Their Trust

**_REALLY short chapter because I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long before I got into the main action-ey part of the story, so.. Here you are?  
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of their characters.  
Enjoy this minuscule, bite sized chapter :) _**

It had been a couple of days since the painful car ride back to the rundown 'base'. Mello, who had secretly been shaken by watching a bleeding girl nearly die in the back of his best friend's car, had been completely ignoring her. He had, with a decent amount of effort, created a dam to push away all the thoughts about her, and now he paid no mind to her at all. He didn't even glance at her as he walked past her going to pick up Matt's car keys from the rickety table by the sofa where his friend had laid her while she was unconscious. She hadn't moved from there, even after she had woken up, realising that her legs were still too weak to walk without support, and she'd be damned if she called on Mello or Matt for help. So she suffered in silence, wincing and cringing on the dirty, sagging sofa.

When Matt wasn't busy hacking and playing his computer games, he would sometimes offer her a drink and some food. There wasn't anything but some order-in pizzas and instant ramen and the occasional glass of water for her to have, but that was enough to satisfy her. She would sometimes ask Matt to let her watch him play video games and even this small request made her cringe. She really wasn't used to relying people, and what had happened to her was almost like an omen as to why she shouldn't.

That day had been a day like any other. Jet was treasuring a class of icy water and a pot of ramen. Mello had secretly been watching her from the doorway to make sure her condition was improving. She was, but she seemed to be worrying over her condition more than usual. She kept on feeling her scalp, biting her lip and touching the bald patches shakily with the arm that was still functioning. This seemed to be another area of worry for her- her other arm had stopped working completely after the skin had healed over the bullet, leaving her with an ugly mark and a useless arm. For the umpteenth time she ran her hand through her patched hair and sighed, turning to spot Mello standing in the doorway peering at her curiously.

"Mello… How bad is my hair?" She said in a gravely voice, and he held back from cringing, pushing all the emotion from his face. He really didn't want to tell her quite how bad it looked, especially about how her hair was falling out more and more by the second, but he had to, really.

"Very. And it's still falling out." She scrunched her face up and rubbed at her temple with her hand, and tried to decide what to do. Finally, she had an idea.

"Have you got something I could use to shave my head?" She questioned in a meagre voice, avoiding looking at the blonde, who's eyebrows were rocketing upwards under his fringe.

It was then that Matt put Mello out of his awkward misery and came through with an electric razor **(A/N I couldn't really remember what they were called… Hope I got it right. If not, let me know XD)** and waved it to catch Jet's attention. She smiled half-heartedly and sat up and looked at the redhead fleetingly.

"Would you be able to help me?" The gamer frowned slightly but nodded and moved towards her with the razor, switching it on and putting it shakily to her scalp and shaving away the soft hair, wincing as he heard the razor run over a scab.

About ten minutes later, Jet was running her hand over her scalp with tears stinging at her eyes. She could feel her scar that she had been born with, but couldn't see the shocked faces of Matt and Mello who could see it shining bright on her pale skin.

Who is this girl? A better question would be… _What_ is this girl?

**_Well, that was it. Hope it was okay for you! Again, I know it's short. I'm getting into the main part of the story soon.  
So Jet shaved her head! O: And she doesn't seem to help beginning to trust Matty and Mels. Hm... I wonder what'll happen next... Well, I know, but you don't. xD  
Okay, look out for the next chapter, and R E V I E W! Reviews= Rainbows and fluffy bunnies and naked Mello and Matt! Well, the last part is optional :P  
Bye bye~! x _**


	8. Kidnap and Abandonment

_**Long time no see. And of course, that's my fault, blah blah blah. At least I warned you I would be a while in updating this time!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of its characters.  
Enjoy. **_

It had been two days since Mello and Matt had stared, bewildered, at her very prominent scar. Already she could feel the stubble of her wild hair beginning to come out, much like how she could remember her foster father's chin being after a week without shaving. She was still immobile on the sofa, living off her cup ramen and murky water that didn't ever look quite right in the dim glass. The sofa was like a prison to her now and her broken bones were her binds. She couldn't even begin to enjoy any conversation that the two men who dodged around her had to offer. Instead of trying to strike up conversation where possible to fill up her monotonous days and sleepless nights, she stared emptily at the wall in front of her, even though it had nothing to offer. Her mind wandered off into the depths of no return, carted by her boredom into the land where even the worst was possible. She felt too fragile in the real world, this one was infinitely more safe. She couldn't die here.

The older men watched her with growing apprehension, still undecided on what to do. Knowing they had to provide, they sacrificed some cup ramen each day to her to keep her alive, but presented her with nothing more than the bare minimum. Underneath the tough façade they were wary and unsure, their confidence wavering on the brink of falling into dark, uninviting waters. Matt was well aware of the stubble on the girl's head but never brought it up, seeing the way she would run a hand over it every other minute. In fact, he could also see the way she could only use one hand. The other hand didn't look like it would ever be in good working condition again. She didn't even seem to notice anymore, anyway, she was too far gone. All three of the messy house's inhabitants expected this to be for the best.

Her bruises were turning yellow and light brown colours, and her scabs were beginning to peel, but the pain hadn't even began to fade, seeming to be ever present like the blank look in her eyes as she stared at the wall for yet another day. The sun was slowly beginning to rise but she hadn't slept that night, much like the last couple of nights, and the wall hadn't become any more interesting than the first hour, yet still she stared, lifeless. A phone had been left, closed over, on the collapsed arm of the sofa, but not once had it rang. She supposed it may have and she hadn't noticed, but even so, it would make no difference to her. It wasn't her phone, but she would answer it if it rang. Her current guardians, as she thought of them, hadn't made contact with her since she had shaved her head apart from brief reports on the news and the weather and the short encounters where the redhead would enter the room to give food and drink and help her to the bathroom. He only helped her to the bathroom twice a day and it was lucky she wasn't drinking a lot or she might have left some stains of her own on the ruined sofa.

Neither Matt or Mello had risen yet and it was coming on five in the morning, the clock on the phone her only indicator. Humming tunelessly under her breath she felt herself slumping forward exhaustedly, feeling her focus on the wall phase in and out. She fell asleep, slumped over, treacherously close to falling of the sofa and upsetting her damaged body. She didn't even realise she was asleep, her reality and the dream world mixing, the line between them blurred.

_Fountains of blood flowed down the crumbling walls, spurting by the litre from the people who let out tortured screams as they were pulled to shreds from the inside out. Crazed eyes followed her pleadingly, begging her to help them, but she could do nothing for fear of being killed herself. Sharp yellowing bloodied teeth snarled and snapped at her as she got too close to their prey, gnarled hands scrabbled and clawed at her, trying to get a hold of yet another meal. The smell of death, stagnant and repulsive, filled her nose as the screams, whimpers, cries and curses echoed in her mind, never leaving. Savage, starving eyes watched her curiously, snapped necks letting the half severed heads loll onto their crushed, bitten shoulders. Bent and broken bodies crawled after her while stiff and ripped half dead men and women stumbled at her, begging for help. The people seemed to pounce from thick black tar, out onto her, but none could grasp her. It was hellish, being so close to being taken, and only just being missed. A torturous mind game that had her body shifting in an ungraceful, pained and broken dance, pulling her harshly through the motions. _

_She tripped slightly and huge pains flew up her leg, and she yelped dejectedly, her binds suddenly broken as she fell to the bloody floor, limbs and organs being thrown every which way above her head. From the tar people's upper bodies jumped through, seemingly detached from their legs and hips ,trying to battle away the thick force field so they could grab her but again something seemed to hold them back. That is, until she let out a tiny sob and pushed herself back as one of those _things_ came very close to her face. She was engulfed in darkness and already could feel the gnarled hands pulling at her skin. _

~Line~

In the next room, where Matt and Mello slept on separate beds, tossing and turning, their dreams disrupted by each other's short grunts and whines at the disturbing images rolling through their own private worlds. Shivers wracked Matt's body and Mello was clenching his fists around the duvet roughly and tugging at it, breaking the stitches relentlessly. They were so deep in sleep that they didn't hear the small creak of the window being unlatched from the outside and slid upwards, or feel the cooling breeze. The breeze, if anything, let them slip deeper into their dreams and calmed their convulsing bodies, the air cool on their sweat coated skin. The redhead, who's bed was closer to the window, whined softly in his sleep as a clammy hand fell on his shoulder, holding him to his mattress. He thrashed violently, waking up due to the sharp movements, and found his eyes boring into a pair of beady, watery green eyes, but before he could make a noise a piece of soaked cloth was smothering his mouth and nose, forcing him to breath in the sharp scent it gave off. He felt his consciousness fading, but before he passed out, he uttered one word to rouse his blonde companion.  
"Mels…" He spoke in the sort of voice a child uses when they wake up from a nightmare and are just beginning to remember it. The quivering, scared voice of a small boy. His eyes squeezed shut as darkness descended on him, the terrors from his childhood infesting his troubled dreams.

Silver blonde hair was spread out on a grey lumpy pillow, tangled and matted from a restless sleep. When his eyes opened, he frowned in slight confusion. He had heard Matt speak his name in a childish, fearful voice, and it had awoken him. But it wasn't morning, no light met his eyes. The redhead would never wake him up before morning. He rolled over to look at his friend, and choked back a surprised gasp as he saw the gamer being gagged, blindfolded and bound, curled up in a shivering, tearful ball on his bed, asleep but having a horrible nightmare. He watched, immobile, as his companion was pulled from his bed in his striped top and a pair of navy pyjama trousers, skinny limbs limp. Just as he gathered his wits, the smoker was yanked out the window, into the night. Mello yelled angrily, grabbing his gun from under his pillow and jumping up from his bed, pointed it at the remaining man, jabbing it sharply into his chest.  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He snarled, looking into the dark brown eyes of the man before him.  
"Following orders." The man snapped back, withdrawing a gun from his back pocket, the stubble on his chin quivering as he spoke. The gun was pointed at the blonde's head. "Shoot me and I'll shoot you. An eye for an eye." With this line, the scarred younger male remembered something that L had once told him when he'd kicked him.

"_An eye for an eye, Mello-kun," the monotonous voice muttered, not even showing the pain being kicked in the balls caused, and before he had the chance to blink the 11 year old Mello was kicked back, and sent flying. By the time he had picked himself up off the floor, his mentor was gone._

That had to be the last time Mello had seen L face to face, alive. They hadn't even said goodbye. The anger that was brought to him with this memory pushed him over the edge and the older man before him found himself with a bullet in his stomach, and as he pulled the trigger of his own gun, the blonde had moved and kicked him hard in the knee, causing him to fall back onto the carpet. His waist length auburn hair escaped its tie and pooled around him like a fiery halo, fair skin glowing with the pallor of death. He wouldn't be alive for much longer, and felt his control on consciousness slip, his mind phasing out. He looked up at the blonde who had killed him and tried to push himself from the anger he radiated, but the pain that shot up his spine left him unable.  
"What have you done with him?" The younger ground out, and the other male gritted his teeth. A leather clad hand signalled to the window that was open, taunting the intruder who knew he would never leave unless his body was thrown from the house after he was dead. As if he needed further clarification to know who 'Him' was. That redhead would be long gone now, though. A small, devilish grin graced his pained features and he let out a gravelly laugh, paying no heed to the pain.  
"Oh, he's long gone now, pretty boy." He snickered, letting his gun fall from his hand.  
"But you know where he's going to. So where will I find him? You'd better tell me, or I'll-"  
"Or what? I'm going to die soon anyway. In a pool of my own blood. You acted too soon, pretty boy."  
"You're going to die here in a pool of your own blood, and by the time anyone comes looking for you, I'll be long gone and the only thing worth anything will be that gun because you'll be rotting away." Mello snarled, stamping down hard on the man's abdomen, making him choke up blood.  
"Oh, don't worry pretty boy. They'll find you soon enough." And under the scrutinizing glare of the blonde above him, he felt the last of his life leave him.

Mello didn't kill people unless he had to. He was absolutely fine with threatening and harming seriously, but killing? That was something that he didn't enjoy doing. He normally avoided it at all costs. But today, that man had just gone too far. His rash action was laughing in his face, and he realised the problem he had created for himself. He had got angry at the man on behalf of his best friend, but now because he had done so he would have a hard time getting said best friend back.  
"Dammit!" He growled as he kicked over the bedside table, its contents pouring out onto the floor. He pulled on the first clothes that came to his hands, a pair of Matt's jeans and his old black long sleeved top, yanked on his leather coat and Matt's combat boots and raced from the room. He glanced around the kitchen and stormed out to the garage, yanking the keys to Matt's red corvette from the hook. He wouldn't take his motorbike tonight. They would know whose car was who, and by taking Matt's there would be some confusion of identity. Climbing into the leather seat, he started up the engine and drove off into the night.

He didn't notice that he had left his phone at the base. Nor did he remember that there was a wounded young girl lurching over the edge of the sofa in her sleep in his living room.

_~~Line~~_

The nightmare had unfurled and after a particularly gruesome death of a number of people she had known, her spine straightened out and her head snapped up, nails digging into her thighs, her eyes flying open. Panting, she sat up slowly, the aches in her back protesting. Shaking her head and rubbing her watering eyes, she pushed her hair from her face and checked the mobile for the time. It was coming on six now, the sun rising and tinting everything orange. A large bang had roused her from her dream and she heard a sort of commotion in the next room. The garage door opened and then all the sound stopped. She waited with baited breath for more signs of life, but nothing came. Relaxing back into the sofa she waited for the suspicious stares of her two guardians to find her in her usual position, but nothing came. Frowning, she shrugged and picked up the phone, which had lit up on its own.

An aggravating ringing noise began to play from it, and she checked for caller ID as she flipped it open. Unknown Number? Biting her lip, she pressed accept and brought the small phone to her ear and waited to hear who was calling them.  
"Uh..Hello?" She spoke uncertainly, sure that this would be a prank call.  
"Hello, who is this?" A filtered voice came through the line.  
"This is Jet Harrows. Who is this?"  
"This is the SPK. We're looking for a man called Mello. You may know him?"  
"Yes, he should be here somewhere" She took the phone away from her ear as she called for the blonde, and frowned as there was no reply. "Uh… Give me a moment, please, I need to go look for him."  
"That is unnecessary. Jet Harrows, you were recently on the news, being held hostage by a gang of thugs, and did not die when Kira was supposedly meant to kill you."  
"Yes, that's me. What of it?"  
"We are in need of assistance, do you have any idea where we would find Mello?"  
"No, I'm sorry. I can go and check in his room for you if you like."  
"No, we can do that. Where is your base?" Her heart began to beat faster and she frowned.  
"Why do you need this information?"  
"We have received information that Mello and Matt are no longer at your base, whereas you obviously are. We don't know why they left so suddenly but there have been reports of a red corvette driving through the city recklessly. We have come to understand that this is Matt's vehicle, correct?"  
"Uh, yes…?"  
"So where is your base?"  
"I'm not sure if I should be giving you this information."  
"It is of high importance that we are given this information, Miss Harrows."  
Growling at the use of her surname, she leaned back and considered her options.  
"The base is situated in the alleyways of the city. I hope you can find it with that piece of information as I have no more to give. It should be the 4th alley on the right along the downtown main road."  
"Thank you, Miss Harr-"  
"Jet."  
"Thank you Jet. We will be there shortly."

A shiver ran down her spine as the line had gone dead. Could it honestly be true that Matt and Mello had left her here to die, vulnerable and fragile, still healing? Surely not…Surely they could have left a note on the table by the sofa, or Mello would have taken his phone? Unless there had been a rush… She had heard the commotion through in the next room. But she had a lot more faith in the two males than that, even if it was irrational.  
Something was going on here, and she was going to find out what.

**_I tried to make it a decent length for you all to make it up, but I couldn't make it too long or I'd give too much of the plot away.  
So we're at a dramatic part of the story!  
__Who kidnapped Matt, where's Mello going, what's going to happen to Jet? Hm... Well, yeah. I know the answers. You don't.  
Please excuse any spelling and grammatical errors, I did check it over quickly but I'm in a rush.  
Reviews are welcome, I do love reading them!  
I may be a while in updating again, seeing as a very busy few weeks of school are coming up. I'll be in Amsterdam for a week then I'm getting my new timetable (3 sciences, art and history. I'm going to be very busy)_**

Thanks for reading!  
Lara~x 


	9. Fake Release

**_Hey guys.  
_**_**I don't even want to know how long it's been. BUT I know I owe you an apology.  
So...Sorry D:  
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters, minus Jet.  
Enjoy!  
**_  
These were her last minutes in this godforsaken sofa, and this knowledge made her jumpy. She wished she could get up and pace through the thick air, but the excitement of seeing the outside world for the first time in what felt like years changed nothing about her immobile state. Her legs itched to move, but the pain held her down even more effectively than leather binds. She was finally noticing everything about this room, rather than just staring at the wall. She could smell the stagnant scent of decay with an undertone of smoke, feel the stuffy air crawling over her dirty sweating skin. She could even see the dirt creeping in like snakes and thieves, slipping closer to her every time she blinked or looked away. It made her shiver.

Of course, her only escape now would be to relive that night that had altered her life for ever. She could still feel those beatings; feel the searing pain as she yanked at her binds. The ache of newly broken bones was fresher than it had felt even on the day, intensified by her memory, and the blood trickling down her face like scarlet tears were scalding hot, leaving trails of burning skin behind, inflamed and peeling. Those burns weren't imaginary, they just weren't physical. Those were the trauma. Then she could hear the ringing noise of bodies slamming down onto the ground, and there was Mello. Mello, the same man who had recently 'abandoned' her. Somehow that just didn't feel right to think. Then there was the limping, the awkward stumbles, the light of the alleys only just touching her eyes before the chaos wrecked her mind. The bullet was re-piercing her arm, and the smell of dirtied tarmac flowing up her nostrils was larger than life.

Those were memories she would rather forget.

'How do you know to trust these people?' Her mind asked in its haunting tones. It didn't want her to trust herself; it didn't want her to survive. 'You've never met them. They know the closest thing to your name, they know where you are. They could plan to do anything, they could be anyone. Why, are you so naïve that you never thought they might not be who they said?'

If she could have, she would have vigorously shaken her head. Seeing as she couldn't, she settled for a rough half-jerk of her stiff neck, eyes wide as she battled away the new fears. She just hoped the SPK were here soon, because her refreshed senses were playing with her mind. She needed nothing more than medical care and some good food and drink to set her mind at ease. Her eyes were dull with suppressed fear and the shaven-head girl held back fierce thrashing, the pressure building up in her very veins. Since when did fear and concern affect her so much? She had gotten along fine without any help until now and now that she did have help, she was terrified and complaining? It made no sense. She just had to learn how to associate and work with others. Maybe then she could make some personal progress, seeing as her luck had been severely lacking over the past months.

But who was she to whine? She had escaped the police and found refuge, made two 'friends' who had proven to be just slightly unreliable and disgustingly smelly within their own home. Whether they were stinking up the house or not though, they had provided her food out of the little they had and even clothed her. That was much more than she could ever hope to return. The one mission they had ever had for her had went wrong because she reacted to one man's wishes the wrong way, yet they had still kept her here, and tried to keep her alive. Well, sort of. Their attempts had seemed half hearted, but…

She could feel and smell the door being thrown open before she heard it rebounding on the cracked plaster walls or look to the window reflection and see it. The scent of ice cold boozy air filled her mind and it had the effect of bleach. Every trouble in her mind seemed to be blown back out of her as she exhaled and relief flooded her, taking over her system. The smell of alcohol was welcome, as compared to decay it was like smelling rich vanilla and chocolate. The cool of the wind was perfect on her rough skin. Never had she been as grateful for something as simple as this.

And then she saw the men entering, and from what she could decipher in the unfocused reflection, they were big. She slid back and watched the reflection cautiously, looking for a sign of what they would do next. One man retched at the smell and took a step back, but at a sharp kick from one of his colleagues he grumbled and disappeared from sight, shortly followed by his taller teammate. She heard soft mutterings, and one called out "We need a body bag in here!" Freezing, she shot up to her feet as if it was nothing, but as she took her first shaky step, she yelped and collapsed in a heap on the floor, landing hard. Every part of her body protested as she tried to move again, but the sudden news that there was a dead body in this tiny house was enough to power her on. She hoisted herself up to her knees, and crawled through the kitchen slowly and quietly, hiding behind the fridge as a medical team ran in through the garage door.

Biting back her small whines of pain, she used the fridge door handle to pull herself to her feet and managed to stumble the few painful feet to the door, gripping the door frame like a life line, panting. She watched as a pale, swollen body was loaded into a body bag, his auburn hair falling out with each movement of his body. Choking back her surprise, she began to enter the room before being grabbed by the arms from behind.

"We have an intruder!" A blundering man told the others, and a small albino boy stood from the group. "N-near, what are you doing here? You're meant to stay in base at all times, it's not safe!" The pale boy appraised the man and the girl he held in a rough manner, seeming to calculate something.

"I wanted to greet this girl in person, and evaluate the damage." He spoke in monotone, and Jet couldn't help but blink. Was this nothing new to him, then? She wanted to ask, but didn't want to seem obnoxious and rude. "Now if you will please escort to the mini-van, please."

Just like that, all the uncertainty of the situation vanished and everyone, after catching a glimpse of the walking wreck that they had stumbled upon, returned to their respective jobs as she was picked up none to gently and carried out to the mini-van. She supposed asking this man who seemed to have no other job but sit in the van about the situation she had found herself in.

"Who's the pale boy?" She asked, not one for skirting around the topic she aimed for. The man turned to look at her, face unreadable.

"He is Near, current leader of the SPK. He came from Wammy house, a school for gifted children. He was the next in line to be L, and now, as his successor, has to bear the weight of saving the world from the greatest criminals around, such as Kira." His voice was flat, and the dazed, bruised girl ran over the information a couple times before storing it away. It didn't look like this man liked Near.

Gazing out the window, taking in the view, and although it was only the backdrop of a grubby street with grey houses and broken windows, it was like seeing the world for the first time. She soaked it up, trying to note every single thing about this crumbling district. Even the grime on the kerb was something not to be taken for granted- she had no idea how often she would be outside. It was ten minutes or so later than the team came back out with only a small bundle of things that might be of any value to their 'guest'. As they poured out with different items of importance, the meek looking teen watched as the body was brought out in it's black bag, pieces of evidence in small clear plastic bags which had been labelled with white tags. As they loaded themselves and their findings into the van, Jet watched out for the pale albino boy, and was not disappointed.

The small figure stepped up into the back of the van, and she watched him curiously. He dressed in white pyjamas, his curly white hair in disarray, his eyes haunting and a misty grey colour, his skin as pale as ice. He was intriguing to say the least, but she wasn't sure how many chances she would have to talk to him. So it pleased her when he sat down beside her on the leather seats. Somehow this low priced mini van didn't seem like the right place for him to be, he looked out of place. She turned to face him, uncaring of whether he caught her staring or not. He made to face her, in turn, and watched her inquisitively.

"I am Near" He said bluntly, waiting to hear if she knew of him. She nodded, a vague look on her face.

"He said" She replied shortly, gesturing to the driver who was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, impatient to drive back to the base, wherever that was.

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am."  
"I know very little. I know your name, which is obviously not accurate, I know that you are an orphan, I know that you were recently on the news and were very nearly a victim of Kira." Jet imagined that if Near allowed himself to talk in a normal voice, he would have spat the name 'Kira' out like venom. " I know that you were somehow in acquaintance with Matt and Mello and lastly, I know that you are trying to heal multiple wounds and broken bones without much food, water, sleep and medical care."

"That's about as much as I know about myself." She told him truthfully. He frowned at her before lapsing into silence, and taking this as permission to look away, she looked out the window and watched the world pass by in a blurring picture. She wished she could ask the driver to go slow so she could appreciate it all, but held her tongue.

The blurring colours were just like that of dreams, and dreams are where she is safe. In the back of her mind, she heard the driver call back to Near to find out their destination.

"We're not going to the base. We can't have her there. We're taking her to a house far from other civilisation. Take the next left and follow the road for the next 6 miles."

Knowing they were already on the outskirts of this small network of alleys and narrow roads, Jet came to the conclusion that they would hit empty land soon. She couldn't help but frown to her reflection.

'_Why are they taking me so far away from civilisation? If people find out that I'm in a house away from anyone else, on a road off the alleys, they only need to find the road and follow it. It's just too easy for me to be found, and…Killed?' _Holding in a groan, she hit her head forcefully on the glass. The pain made her ears ring.

"She's a freak.." Someone muttered, and her ears pricked. Sighing, she didn't retaliate. She could hardly believe that she truly had become a freak, but it was far from untrue after the passing events. No normal person would sit and stare at a wall for days on end while in pain. They would at least cry. But now, as she thought about it, as much as the pain had frustrated her, it was clear that she hadn't cared about the pain, she would even go as far to say she had almost enjoyed it, it was being bound to a sofa that had pissed her off.

She felt Near's eyes on her before she saw them in the window reflection. Turning around to meet his dull stare, she raised an eyebrow in question. He bided his time, seeming to judge whether speaking would be wise. Deeming it safe, he opened his mouth to speak, but before any noise could come out, a loud squealing of tires deafened the people in the minivan. All eyes snapped to the driver, who was struggling to control the vehicle, to no avail. They flew off the road, but although the accelerator was no longer being held down, the wheels couldn't stop turning. They sped down the slope that seemed to grow steeper by the second, and the scent of smoke clouded Jet's mind. Seeing a sudden dip in the field ahead, which appeared to be fairly deep, perhaps a river, her survival instinct took over.

For Near, the next 34 seconds flew by him in a muddle of shouts, screams, smashing noises and bangs. All he could remember, as he sat in the field watching the van fly onwards down into a river, as all the screaming ceased, was Jet lunging up from her seat, yanking him from his after unclipping his seatbelt hastily, throwing the door open, and then all he could recall was white light and a relentless pain in his head. He couldn't see Jet anywhere, and stood up slowly to inspect the area. At a better vantage point, he could see her crawling after the van through the tall grass. The blood trickling down his neck was hot and sticky, no doubt staining his clothes and hair, and he walked stiffly after her, approaching the river where his team where drowning or trying to get out. If his instinct was correct, the appropriate behaviour right now would be to run and try and save people.

The water in the river was murky, and seemed to be insanely deep, gurgling around the minivan as if it were trying to swallow it and trap it on the bed of the river. The soggy and slippery mud and weeds made it hard to balance, and Near gripped a clump of sodden grass and leaned over the edge to peer into the van, as if checking to see if anyone was still alive. He could see the ripples caused from the struggling, and could also see how each flail of an arm freed the van from the mud at the side of the bank, making the van sink further into the water. Jet finally appeared beside him, but didn't assess the situation, swallowed in a deep breath of air greedily before slivering off the grass and into the water, set on saving the crew's lives.

Near watched as his only witness, the only person who had recent contact with Matt and Mello, slipped into the murky water, only just managing to pull herself through the water and not get carried away with the tide. He wanted to reach into the water and pull her back out, but she didn't seem to be the sort to reckon with, and so he sat on the bank and dipped his feet in. It felt like ice on his thin legs, and he bit his lip.  
Sometimes, though, he decided as he slipped into the water, getting sick is worth it if you save a life.  
Even if it's only the saviour that he manages to keep breathing.

**_Why is it that no matter how much you try to write loads, it never looks like much? Well, It's 2500+, so you can't _really _complain, I guess.  
_****_So Near has entered the scene! Eheh.  
Sorry if there's grammar mistakes.. I did my best with the spelling.  
_**_**As I took so long to update, my apology is that I'm taking any requests. ANY. Also, I'll give you cookies, and a pet unicorn. :)  
Hope you enjoyed!  
~x **_


	10. Choking on Death

**_FINALLY FINISHED THE GOD DAMN CHAPTER! Now I can start writing other shizz without feeling guilty! Don't worry, I'll be continuing the fic- I just take a while to write things just the way I like them. I'm sorry about the wait O:  
A bit more drama, and a little humour towards the end, in this chapter. I'm sorry if Near seems OOC.  
I was adding Gevanni into this chapter, and I got sooo many different spellings of his name, I thought my head was going to explode! So I stuck with the simple one. Let me know in a review if it's alright or if it's completely incorrect- the internet can be misleading.  
Warnings: OOC Near. That's about it.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Stop making me cry.  
Enjoy!_**

Silver and turquoise wrapped around her narrow body, pressing her clothes into the crevices where her skeleton jutted out of her skin. Stinging, and cold seemed to engulf her as she flailed her aching limbs and tried to keep her eyes open. Through the thickening rushes of colourful waves she could just make out the outline of the van. Her head felt as if the water had poured in through her ears and resided in the hollows of her skull, liquidising her brain, which slipped out of her eyes in the form of tears. The tears, brought on by the sharp pang of water touching her tired eyes, rose up to the surface of the water before being snatched away, soaring downstream faster than Jet could even begin to guess.

She knew that she would follow suit if she didn't keep on trying. And so she flailed her limbs, remembering what she had seen the children do at the swimming pool when she had watched them through the plastic windows on the outside of the building when she had been so young. Recalling the yearning to join them in the waters, that looked smooth and cleansing compared to the river she resided in currently, she began to push herself harder, ignoring the angry protests of her stiff joints. Battling with the water, she pushed herself through the waves, each wave like a heavy curtain she had to heave aside. Clamping her lips and eyes shut, there was no other way to describe it than relief when she felt the rough scrape of metal under her numbing fingers.

She grasped it like a lifeline, letting out a little more of her oxygen supply, ignoring the way it rose away from her along with her energy. The pull of the waters was too much for her to battle against with her one good arm alone, her other arm floating uselessly beside her, and so she hooked her heels in a dent in the inside of the mini van, feeling her muscles groan as they clenched to pull her in. Finally fully opening her eyes, she blinked a piece of paper that had obviously been dragged with the currents out of a pocket away from her eye and examined the situation briefly.

Only one man was still breathing and conscious, panic having made his hands useless for undoing the seatbelt, the air bubbles rising from his bluing lips rapidly. Biting back a small pang of fear, she used various parts of the partially crushed van to pull her weakening body to his side, putting one hand on his shoulder to push him back against the seat as her other hand fiddled with the belt, untwisting it so it wouldn't catch when she released the seatbelt. Finally smooth enough that it wouldn't catch on his clothing when he was released, she pressed the button down with a finger that she could no longer feel, fumbling slightly but getting it at the second try. His eyes, crazed and unseeing, flitted around him, allowing himself to be pulled from his seat, seemingly remembering how to move his limbs.

As they reached the jammed open van door, a white flurry passed them both, and they blinked but didn't turn back as they took the step out into the ploughing waves that threatened to rush them away if this dark haired man didn't put in an effort. One of his arms securely around the younger's shoulders, he flailed his free arm and kicked his legs spasmodically pushing them up towards the embankment. He could hardly see after his eyes being exposed to so much salty water, and was relying greatly on the small girl who clutched his waist with the arm that worked to guide him. After a gruelling battle they broke the surface and the collective sharp intake of breath echoed in the watery ears of the pair.

Small hands pushed on the small of his back, urging him up onto the slimy grass of the embankment, smearing mud over the back of his suit jacket. He clutched to the slippery strands of grass and rolled himself up onto the grass, choking out water, feeling a small amount of pressure being put on his chest to help him push the salt and water from his lungs. Finding it some consolation that someone was aiding him, he hacked out the last of the watery, salty phlegm and lay back on the embankment, staring up at the sky, the black spots in his vision shrinking, making way for the glare of the sun.  
"Breath. Also, move away from the edge of the embankment." A raspy but firm voice instructed him, the pressure removed from his chest and placed on his waist, rolling his slow body over onto its side, urging him on.  
"Thankyou." He coughed out as he began to haul himself up the embankment onto the top of the muddy hill that was created by the sharp downwards fall to the river that had snagged the mini van and sent it hurtling down.

Turning to sight his saviour, he found himself staring at a collection of air bubble, the surface of the water only recently broken (again) by the younger girl who had saved his life. Not that he'd ever know this. Groaning, he fell back and closed his eyes, trying to regain his energy that had deteriorated from the lack of air, the pain, the horror and the panic.

Blood filled the water, pouring from open wounds from people who had been lacerated by the glass of the windows that had shattered upon impact of jagged rocks that lined the far side of the embankment. For once, Jet was glad of her lack of hair, and ran her cold hand once over the stubble as if to pet it in thanks. She kicked her way back to the van, still feeling weak, concentrating on the dull outline of the vehicle as the light split through the water like a knife, leaving a small white cut in the dark murky river. Again she hauled herself into the van and assessed the situation. Blood was clouding her vision- was that her blood, or someone else's?

Trying to bat the thick substance away from her face, she grasped the nearest body to her, finding it to be very much alive, and moving, on its way back out the van. About to let go to go into the van to grab another person, rearing to save another life, desperate almost, she felt her lifeless wrist being snatched and she was roughly dragged from the scene of the crash. She shrieked, the noise being pulled away from her and through the water, downstream, seeing the bubbles of air stop flowing from the blue faced people's mouths, and felt a rush of tears attack her eyes. No matter how much she struggled against the hand that held her by her arm, jerking around mercilessly, the hold was firm and she couldn't escape.

She watched the people die in silence, realising resistance was futile, and hung her head, keeping her eyes glued to the van. She could almost feel the life being sucked from the vehicle; see the dancing souls of the members in the van being dragged away, unable to reach the stars where they should belong. How many times would she have to see people die, see lives passing when she should have saved them? It felt like only yesterday that she watched the gang members drop the floor, their eyes blank before they hit the ground. She didn't regret them dying- not really. They had harmed her enough that she felt no sympathy for them as the fear struck their hearts, showing so brightly in their eyes.  
It wasn't unusual to come across the rotting body of something in the alleys she had roamed before, when she was just a child. What is seen cannot be unseen, and so she walked with the burden of death hitching a ride on her back as she travelled. Life was never easy.

No one could tell when she had blacked out.  
Near had panicked (internally, of course), when he threw her onto the embankment and hoisted himself up to see her and the lone survivor's conditions, and found her limp on the grass, caked in mud and other people's blood, soaked to the skin. He had never been so relieved to find a pulse when he had pressed his hand to her underdeveloped chest, cringing at how her ribcage protruded. Her lips were blue, and her skin was deathly pale, but from between those chapped blued lips small gasps of air puffed out. Her heart beat in time with her inhales and exhales- erratic and shallow.

Gevanni was conscious and quickly recovering himself. He shakily pulled himself to his feet upon Near's arrival and stood at the top of the slippery hill as the albino dragged the lifeless teen up the hill, seemingly struggling even though she looked to weigh nothing at all. Seeing that she was indeed alive, but hardly, he stripped off his suit jacket, which was still soaked through, and offered it to the pale boy, who lifted her frail body slightly, slipping the expensive fabric around her shoulders, helping her arms into the sleeves.

She didn't wake up while Near estimated the general direction of their destination, and the amount of time it would take them to arrive there, and so it was with ample measures of begrudging reluctance that Gevanni bundled her into his arms and set out to begin their fairly long journey. It had been estimated that they would be about 9 hours to get to the confinement they were placing Jet in, roughly, and that was without stopping even to drink or urinate. It was somewhere between 2 and 4 in the afternoon, and the sun was still high in the sky, which meant that the three dried faster. They wouldn't encounter any people on their journey, or so Near predicted, so there was no way to get food, but that also meant no people to give explanations.  
"Shouldn't we call the emergency services about the van?" questioned Gevanni in a gravely voice, face calm and collected even though inside he was a wreck.  
"No, as otherwise it will be more trouble than it's worth."  
"You can't just leave them there to rot." Protested the dark haired man.  
"Yes I can. I just did." He said bluntly, but seeing from his sidelong glance that his employee was heavily affected by this (and how could you blame him? Even the pale boy was shaken), he tried to reassure the man. "The water will eventually carry it downstream. It won't be long until they're discovered. Vans don't come flowing down a river every day, so it will soon be noticed, in a town or village."

This didn't console either of them, but they carried on in silence, Gevanni finding his arms were beginning to ache a little. They had already been weak from just recently being dragged out of water seconds before he died, but with the weight of an admittedly extremely light teenage girl on them, they had strained to keep her up at all. He bit his lip in frustration.  
"Near, can you hold her for a while?"  
"I'm navigating, Gevanni."  
"I just narrowly avoided death, give me a break." He snapped, wishing he had a free hand to clap over his mouth. He'd never snapped at his employer before- the albino boy had always made him feel too edgy to be so open about his feelings.

Aside the sharp tone, the albino saw the man had a point- he would probably still be weak from waking up after blacking out on the muddy embankment, and would possibly even still have a little salt water in his lung which he couldn't (or at least he hoped he _wouldn't_)hack up all over the girl. He was also cold and recovering from the shock of seeing people he'd become acquainted with die, and almost dying himself. On top of that, the white haired boy couldn't help but feel that the icy eyed man didn't trust the girl in his arms. Odd, but he supposed anyone who wasn't better informed would feel edgy that the driver of the vehicle would slip up only after meeting a girl none of them had met before. And that had been a big slip up- the evidence was in the water.

Silently, the obsidian eyed boy held out his arms and let the tired man role the girl, not halting her before she hit his chest. He supposed this is what made her begin to stir, tilting her head so she had her nose buried in his shirt, and hack up a small mouthful of salt water which made his skin crawl as it stuck his shirt to his skin- he had only just dried off, and again he was being soaked. He could have swore he heard his companion snicker at his predicament and the waking girl groaned and fidgeted, making it hard to keep her in his arms. He was almost tempted to drop her on the floor, but knew she was in no condition to do that. Almost as if she sensed that he was thinking of dropping her, she reached up and slapped him across the face hard enough to make his head snap to the side.

Now fully awake, she stared up at him with distrustful, blinking her eyes until they focused. Now seeing who was carrying her, she cringed and waited to be berated, but it didn't come. Feeling his breathing steadying again against her right forearm, she bit her lip and scrunched her eyes closed.  
"What was that for?" An even voice asked her, causing her to open her eyes and cock her head to the side. Not angry?  
"I didn't realise it was you carrying me.."  
"And you thought slapping your kidnapper, while you're in the state you're currently in, was going to be a good idea?" He sighed, drawing his eyes back to their path.  
"No, I was thinking: Oh god, he's going to rape me, he's a paedophile, he's an old man, I can tell from the colour of his hair. But then my vision cleared, and I thought: Oh, I just slapped that guy I can't remember the name of."  
"Near."  
"Thanks, I'd still forgotten it. Did you even tell me it?" He dismissed her question, frowning at the idea of being mistaken for a paedophilic rapist pensioner. Could men that age even get it up? He shook his head free of the image, and she took this as an answer to his question. Why was she being so annoying anyway? "Why am I being so annoying?" She asked, blinking.  
"My thoughts exactly." He spoke before he could stop himself. This earned him a glower, and an offended 'Hey, that's mean!'

Gevanni looked at the two, feeling a headache coming on. He realised that the girl had saved his life an all (though he didn't trust her in the least), and that Near was his employer, but he was currently wishing that they were _not _here and he could pretend he was on a peaceful walk (something he _never _did. Ever), somewhere far from the quarrelling duo. And from as far as he could see, things weren't going to get better any time soon.  
He was entirely correct.

**_It looks so SHORT. I hate Fanfiction for making big long documents look puny! D:  
It iiiis over 2000 words, though- I'm trying to make each chapter at least close to that figure.  
I guess I'm kind of dragging this story out a bit- Probably because I plan out what I'm going to write, but when I write it I get a quarter of the way through the plan and realise that if I write the whole thing it'll be, like, 12 pages long and who knows how many words. I can't do that to myself. Nope nope nope.  
I'll try to be a little quicker with uploading the next chapter. I swear, I DO try!  
(I'm getting kind of lazy with these chapter names, hm? Damn. Oh wells!)  
I currently have two different fics planned out that I'm going to be putting into action soon, and I'm considering a few Hetalia fics.  
Review! :D  
(To the anon reviewer who brought up wanting to read a BBxNear fic, if you read this- I'm working on that, too.)  
Bye! _**


	11. Dear Diary

**_OHMYGOSH I JUST CLICKED A BUTTON AND IT MADE A THINGY CALLED A HORIZONTAL RULER. New button! Or.. A button I haven't noticed before! :D  
Uh, yeah, this is well overdue. I wont lie when I say that this story has been hard to keep spewing ideas for! But I hope it meets your expectations.. ^-^" I kind of felt the story had been filled with too much dramatic doom and gloom so I decided to let the you, the awesome reader who actually followed the story so far, know a bit more about our lovely main character's personality! Also I needed to lighten it up a little before I died from.. gloominess.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. But I do own Jet, and the plot to this story.. Duh..  
Enjoy! _**

_ Two weeks ago…  
I was saving a man's life. Fighting with the waves valiantly despite my condition.  
It's strange to think of that day. _

_It feels like a lifetime ago. _

_When we first came to this house, I was prepared for more drama. Things had been too easy for at least 3 hours and that just wasn't how my life had been going for the last few months. I was preparing for an attack or something equally violent and dangerous. _

_ What really surprised me was that it didn't come. _

_I guess I've always been pretty sceptical, seeing as my upbringing wasn't exactly easy or normal. The idea of being safe was brilliant, yes, but unlikely. It was hard to believe that for once I might be safe. It was nice to know, but I can't help feeling that it's too good to be true, even now, 14 days later exactly. I'm shrouded by the same doubts I was on the first day. _

_The house is better than anything I've ever been in. It's the sort of thing you would see on the TV. _

_I've never been in anything quite like it. It looks like one wall is made completely from glass, stretching the expanse of all 3 floors. Everything is white and spotless and I'm afraid to touch things in case I get dirt on them. The whole place is extremely spacious, and very luxurious. I'm sure that to the likes of Near it's a pretty every day house but to me it's a palace. _

_ Due to the fact I'm not exactly in the best of conditions, I sleep, wash and live on the ground floor. It's pretty convenient that there's a bedroom, bathroom, shower and kitchen all downstairs, huh? I'm smitten with the whole situation, mainly. _

_ I'm in crutches now. It was hard to get used to them at first, seeing as one of my arms is in a cast because of a shattered elbow. And because I can't bend the arm I have to stand at awkward angles to do most things. Even I have to admit that it was pretty funny, hobbling about and suddenly falling to the carpet as I tried to work them properly. _

… _Even though it hurt like a bitch. _

_ My ankle is now in a cast, and my stitches have already been taken out. Although the damage is wide spread no one injury is hugely serious, which makes me feel like a pussy for crying about it at certain times. I mean, I'm still human, even if my life hasn't been that of a typical kid. I cry sometimes. Even if I don't like to, and it makes me look like a spastic asshole. _

_The most exciting thing is that most of my scabs from the different cuts are starting to heal! I mean, they've left some ugly scars, but they look better than those ugly brown scabs that I've been picking at for who knows how long! I was seriously happy when I got the first one off. I can't stop touching the crinkly skin left behind- it feels so weird! _

_Gevanni, Near and this girl called Halle come and visit me weekly. It's nice having company, because I never really had it that much. Or at least, not the good kind. I'm quite grateful for their visits, even if they're not doing it to benefit me. You can see that Halle's definitely the ditzy motherly type, even though she doesn't have kids, and she's always fussing over me. It gets kind of annoying- I'm not THAT much younger than her! Even if I am short and frail and vulnerable, it doesn't mean I should be treated as a child. _

_ Tch. At least she's nice. _

_Each week they bring bags of groceries and it has to be the highlight of the day, seeing what food they bring. Near tested me out on cake and I love it! That and watermelon are my two favourite foods. Ice cream and cookies are close behind. And then gummy worms and marshmallows. I've actually come to mainly live off sweet things, although I'm urged to eat meats and carbohydrates like bread and rice. I do, at meal times, where I only eat small portions, but snack time, which is all the time, is a completely different matter. That's the other thing. Now that I have access to food, my appetite is just about insatiable. _

_ This week, Halle brought me 4 different wigs of real human hair to try on. It has to be the funniest thing ever, trying them on and pretending to be different people. _

_One is shoulder length platinum blonde with choppy layers and a side fringe. This one's probably the furthest from my real hair colour, and the best to impersonate people with. Surprisingly enough, I look pretty good as a blonde. _

_Another is waist length mousse brown with curtains. I look like a nerd in it! I'm wearing that one now, actually. It's the least itchy on my head seeing as it's so long and silky. Although the hair nets all feel the same. _

_The third one is black and choppy jaw length with a side fringe. It turns out that I don't suit short hair.. Which will suck if I ever grow my own hair back, because I'm obviously going to go through a stage where my hair is reaaaaally short. Not that I look any better bald._

_My favourite one is gingery auburn, the closest to my natural hair colour. It is shorted at the back than it is at the front, with choppy layers and a full fringe. I definitely suit this one the best, and I also enjoy wearing it the most, even if it sits kind of weird against my scalp and falls off a lot. _

_Another bonus about this whole new place is the fact that I actually have a selection of clothes. I mean, there's nothing unique or highly interesting but it's the best I've ever had, and the most. It's a little overwhelming, pulling back the wardrobe door for the first time to find an abundance of fabric that you never thought you'd ever be able to wear. I feel humbled. Ohohoh. _

_ It's mainly just skirts and t-shirts, nice and easy to put on without any zips or buttons, but there are one or two shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans and even a pair of trousers. The best of all are the hoodies- I have two hoodies, one bright blue with white stripes, the other grey with purple stripes, and they are both pretty baggy. They are the warmest things I have ever worn. Ever. _

_Not that I really need them here. Heheheh. _

_ In all honesty I have never felt as pretty as I do now, even when I was little I had always been pretty limited and quite plain. It's nice to look at myself in the mirror and see an improvement. Because for once I can actually stand to see myself in a mirror- it's comforting to know I'm finally getting better. _

_Lately, I've kind of come to miss my foster parents. I wonder if they even remember me? If anything the sick stains from childhood sickness on the duvets should remind them. I hope the world's treating them well- I know that Kira was really locking down on criminals lately and dad was a thief. I hope he's had the sense not to get caught, because the idea of him being killed and leaving mum all alone is a little scary. _

_Don't get me wrong._

_Mum was way more manly that dad, right up until the end, but in the end she is still untrained in fighting and prone to getting herself into brawls with other women. _

_So many things have changed since I was seven. I doubt they even live in the same house now. I doubt they would recognise me if I walked by in the street. _

_Aw, thinking about that's made me sad now. I reckon I should change the subject. Uh.. You know what's really creepy? Not as in pervert creepy but as in scary creepy. I can't shake the feeling I'm being watched. I'm so conscious of everything I do because I'm sure that someone's analysing every move I make. It's awfully nerve wracking to even just get changed in the morning and at night. And using the toilet is downright embarrassing. _

_ I hate it. I wish that whoever is watching me would just go away. _

_I mean, I keep on looking but I can't find a single camera on the inside of the building. _

_Which means whoever is watching me doesn't want me to know that I am being watched. I mean, if I was told I was being watched, I would guess that it wasn't for anything dangerous or bad, so while I would still be awkward, I wouldn't feel threatened. But because it's like they're trying to keep it a secret, I feel as if I'm in the target zone for something bad. _

_ REALLY bad._

_I mean, I'm aware that there are cameras on the outside of the building, that watch the perimeter of the house. Full glass wall, remember? So Near didn't try and hide that one. In fact, I'm pretty pleased that they're keeping watch out there, because if anything nasty comes for me, I'm not in any position to run away. _

_ Nor do I have anywhere to run to. I seriously am out here in the middle of no where and I don't know where in the middle of no where I am, so I don't know how I'm meant to go anywhere or find somewhere else to stay. Well, I'm not meant to go anywhere. They don't want me to leave, and it was made pretty clear about how I should NOT try and escape. _

_No, I wasn't threatened. _

_ But Gevanni's scary. _

_Don't tell anyone I wrote that… _

_I think that they have me all the way out here because they are under the impression that I was in some way of use to Mello and Matt. And that maybe they think having me away from civilisation will lure Mello out here, where there's no where to hide. _

_ Like I'm bait for their game of Mello and Matt hunting. _

_..Heheh… _

_Moving on from the image of me getting dragged backward through water with rabid Matts and Mellos biting at my crutches, I've been having some pretty weird dreams lately. Yes, I'm basically writing about everything that's on my mind, so you'll just have to deal, huh? _

_Right, well. It's always just dark, nothing to see, and in the far distance there's a little line of light, like when you open a door a little with the light on and a line of light goes through into the dark room you're going in to? I'm not good at explaining things.. Well, yeah, a thin line of light that ends just before my feet, and I'm trying to walk along it, but it gets shorter with every step I take, always just a centimetre from my toes. _

_The main thing about it though is that I can hear a woman calling to me. She's saying a name, and while I'm pretty sure the name doesn't belong to me, I know she's calling for me. She wants me to come to her, to save her. She tells me that she's scared, and that it's so dark, and that I have to stay on the light before they write my name down. _

_ She keeps on calling to me and she sounds so helpless. _

_I get really frustrated and I keep on trying to get onto this line of light but I can't, and then all I can hear is the scratching of pen on paper and a tiny throaty laugh before she starts crying really hard. And then she whimpers a little. And then screams. And when she screams I stop moving, and I can't move any more. I try so hard to fight against the darkness that holds me back. And she keeps on screaming and screaming and I can feel that I'm bleeding but I don't know where from or why and nothing makes sense. _

_ I get so scared and then suddenly the screaming stops and the light has gone and I hear the scratching of pen on paper again, and the laughter comes. I hear woman cry my name one last time before I hit the ground and it feels like I'm drowning in tar. And then everything goes white, and I wake up. But sometimes it takes me a while to wake up after it turns white, and it's like watching the blank screen at the end of the movie, but it's terrifying, and the screaming and the laughing is echoing in my head. _

_The most annoying part is that I can never remember what she's calling me. That name, it evades me, even though the rest of the dream is so clear in my head. I just can't remember it, no matter how hard I try, and it's so annoying. That name means something, it's important, I can tell. I just don't know what, or why. _

_Moving on to lighter topics, and slightly more embarrassing issues, there's a certain thing that I can't stop thinking about. Well, a certain someone… And I can't help but think this is the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me in my entire lifetime. I have suddenly come to the problem that I can't stop thinking about Near, and it's really starting to get on my nerves._

_I'm not sure what it is about him that makes him so appealing to me, but I can't shake the countless thoughts I have about him. Somehow just having him walk through the door once a week makes me blush and smile, and it fills me with far too much cheer to be normal. _

_ It makes it increasingly awkward to talk to him. Not that he ever talks much, anyway, most conversations that are held in this house are one sided. I would be sighing if I was talking right now. But I'm not. So I'm not sighing. See my logic?_

_I hate being reduced to a blushing, helpless girl in his presence. It's so embarrassing! And I know that Halle's noticed, because she always smiles at me and even winks as if telling me that my secret is safe with her. I wish I could say that there wasn't a secret! What's worse is that she finds it cute and always finds reasons to get her and Gevanni away from me and Near. So I kind of sit there, humbled in his presence and worst of all, speechless, and he just kind of looks at me with those calculating eyes while I melt. It's awful. _

_Of course, not every one of Halle's attempts to get Gevanni out of the room are successful. The man doesn't trust me in the slightest, and he's made it clear. He has a wary look in his eyes whenever he's around me, and it looks like he's ready to jump in front of Near at any time. As if I was going to suddenly launch at him with a dagger or something, with inhumane stealth and speed. It's irrational, seeing as I'm in crutches and he had the entertainment of watching me collapse to the floor many times as I tried to use them correctly. _

_ I mean, he even confronted me. He actually thinks I'm Kira. Have you ever heard anything more ridiculous? I mean, not only was I once a criminal myself, I'm frail and have no access to the internet or the news. Nor do I have the intuition to kill people without touching them, and only knowing their name and face. Or in the case of the second Kira, only their face. _

_The whole confrontation was triggered when I got curious about if Near was Near's real name. I asked out of childlike curiosity and he obviously took it as something much less innocent. He looked ready to strike me down and murder me there, while Near was his usual emotionless self. He hadn't even had a chance to reply before Gevanni butted in. How rude, and annoying! _

_ The best part was when Near told Gevanni to back down, though. Obviously he didn't say that exactly, in fact, I can't even remember what he said, but he got the guy to leave me alone. It was a relief, because I wasn't sure what to say to his brash accusations. Near actually sounded a little annoyed as well, though it was very subtle. He played the part of the knight in shining armour. _

…

_ I didn't just write that.. _

_You know, sometimes it would be nice if I could go outside, because the fields look so lovely in the sunset. I can't even stick my head out a window and breath in the evening air as the sun plays through the grass and whatever else is growing, as the windows are all firmly locked and Near has the keys. It's just the way that the burnt tones of the light sets fire to the landscape as it sprays out from the horizon. I would love to bathe in it until the light drains out and leaves me lying under silver stars and a glowing moon. It would be perfect. _

_ Most evenings I haven't got a lot to do as I've worn out writing and drawing and even eating and reading. So I listen to the birds singing in the trees, humming along with them sometimes, and I imagine what it would be like to perch on a branch out there and sing so beautifully. I wonder what it would be like to be able to fly away from my cage and all my worries. _

_I wonder what it would be like to be free._

**_Yay! So the truth comes out!.. Don't worry, this story isn't going to go soft and gooey romantic.  
This is a MANLY story. :D  
'Kay, well.. Reviews make good fish food.. SAVE MAH IMAGINARY PET FISHY FRANK! He's starving!  
(Sorry if this chapter seemed kind of pointless/plotless. I was running over a few thing to keep it fresh in your head, (and mine) and I'm trying to let people know a bit more about Jet's character. And what better way to do it than have her write a diary/journal? ... I'm so unoriginal *Sobs* -Is shot- )  
Bye now! :D  
P.S: Just to ask a question.. I don't really think this is fantasy mystery genre any more, so I've changed mystery to drama. But I'm not sure if this could count as crime? Or what. Suggestions, please! D: _**


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